


Pocket Aces

by flight_feather



Series: Shadows of Kadara [3]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, F/M, Girl Power, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Mystery, Secrets, Torture, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-04 10:45:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11553570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flight_feather/pseuds/flight_feather
Summary: Someone is gunning for Reyes, and he doesn't know who. Ryder and Keema are the pocket aces he was lucky enough to have been dealt in the game that sent him to Kadara.





	1. Starting Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's been following Reyes. He doesn't know who, and he doesn't know why, but he needs to find a way to outsmart them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of smut, but for the most part, this is more of a mystery.

For the third day in a row, Reyes had the feeling he was being followed. It was a sense he’d honed quite sharply on Omega, so even if this tail was good enough not to be spotted Reyes still knew it was there. 

The implications weren’t good. For all anyone other than Keema or Kian would know, Reyes Vidal was at best a freelance information broker and smuggler, and at worst, a Collective operative in an increasingly public relationship with the human Pathfinder. Under the surface, however, there was the matter of his hidden role as the Charlatan, the secret, faceless leader of the Collective. His only value as a target was for one of those last two reasons; his professionalism and discretion in his private business deals were part of how he was able to charge his exorbitant rates, and his charm smoothed over whatever those couldn’t satisfy. 

Which brought him back to who would want to follow him, and why, for days. Had they purposely waited for a time when Ryder was off-planet, assuming that she was his main or only source of firepower? Or was this part of a plot to lure her? His mind raced, possibilities branching into possible actions, a tree of thoughts spanning motives, decisions, plans. 

He couldn’t shake the follower, and he couldn’t spot them. That meant they were good, not the run-of-the-mill thug or Outcast. It would make things difficult, but it also narrowed the list of possible suspects considerably. The Initiative topped the list; Tann and the Nexus leaders hadn’t been keen to broker an alliance with the Collective and had been even less pleased when Ryder defied them by moving to Kadara and shacking up with him, an exile. An angaran faction, maybe some of the better-organized Roekaar trying to eliminate the Pathfinder in a less direct fashion. Or, as an outlier, a rogue Collective or independent agent, one he’d missed in his mission to clean house a week back or someone external to the Collective who simply wasn't on his radar. 

Which brought him what he was going to do about it. If he was being physically followed, it was likely he was being watched in other ways as well. Taps on his communications, bugs in his usual hangouts, the comings and goings of his shuttle tracked. He hadn’t gone home to the apartment he and Ryder shared since the first day he’d sensed the shadow, but he wasn’t sure any of his safehouses were actually safe anymore. Anything and everything could have been compromised, and until he knew who they were and what they wanted he would have to manage this alone if he wanted to avoid drawing Keema or Ryder into the danger - and keep them in play as backups. At the same time, he needed a contingency plan, somewhere to hide and some way for Ryder to know what the situation was when she came home from her scouting mission. 

Briefly, Reyes wondered if his paranoia was finally getting the better of him. He wasn't a trusting man on the best of days, and only Ryder, Keema, and Kian had his full confidence. What little additional capacity he’d had for trust had been destroyed when he was betrayed by two of his own people, both of whom had intended to kill him. Ryder had taken a bullet that should have killed her as part of their crusade, and he'd lost himself in the Charlatan for weeks until she’d brought him back to himself.

Despite the seriousness of his situation, Reyes couldn't help but smile. He'd gotten lucky with the Pathfinder; that was one gamble that had paid off handsomely. Not just professionally, as he'd planned, but personally as well. When he couldn't find his way out of the spiral of the Charlatan’s hunt, she had goaded him into indulging in the darker side of his sexuality, trusting that his duty to care for her afterward would be remembered and acted upon and that doing so would remind him that he was Reyes, not just the Charlatan. 

It had worked, and when he realized in hindsight what she'd done he'd been humbled by her trust and faith in him. He'd been rougher and more dominating with her than he ever had, and she'd taken everything he dished out and asked for more until he'd exhausted both of them and shattered the endless spiral he’d gotten stuck in. The memory of the things he'd done to her still set his blood on fire, and he was smirking without realizing it as he stepped into Kralla’s Song.

“Oh, goddess,” Umi sneered when he approached the bar. “Thinking about your girlfriend again, Vidal?”

Reyes turned the inward smirk into an outward one. “Maybe I'm thinking about you,” he teased, wondering if he gave himself away like that often. He needed to be more careful, especially now that he and Ryder were publicly an item.

“Yeah, and maybe Athame had three tits that squirted streams of whiskey.” Umi rolled her eyes and poured him his usual. “Just keep her happy. She's good for business.”

“Haven't had a complaint,” he purred flashing his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ugh, get out of here. But not before you pay!” 

Reyes winked and moved off to a seat in the back of the bar, where he'd be able to see everything and everyone. Umi sometimes reminded him of another no-nonsense asari bartender and as he sat down he raised a small toast to Ilara, wondering if she was still alive back on Omega.

The sense of being watched had faded when he came into Kralla’s and he assumed that the tail would be resumed when he left. In the relative privacy of the crowded space, he sipped his whiskey and considered his options and resources. Resources were easier. Ryder. Keema and Kian. His shuttle, myriad credit accounts, and various hiding spots both in port and in the badlands. He was wary of counting the Collective just yet, still feeling the sting of betrayal and waiting to see if there was any more discontent surrounding the agreement with the Nexus. Once credits started lining people's pockets he'd be more relaxed, but for now, Ryder was his best bet.

Ryder...and SAM. The Pathfinder's AI counterpart had connected with him directly in the past and presented an interesting option. It was, by default, a quantum entanglement connection, meaning it was largely unhackable. Someone had succeeded once but he had surveillance on the handful of people with the skill to make another attempt, and none of them were doing anything suspicious.

So, SAM then. It could provide a back door directly to Ryder's mind - he couldn't think of a more secure delivery interface than that - and had the computing power to decrypt whatever he could throw at it. The AI liked him, inasmuch as a machine could be said to have feelings, and would probably agree to a request to hold information for Ryder in the event that he disappeared, willingly or otherwise. He wouldn't be able to dictate the headstrong woman's actions after that, but at least he had a shot at leaving some breadcrumbs.

Now the question of what he knew that was useful. Reyes started making a mental list, pretending to flick through logs in his omnitool so that he wasn't just staring at nothing in the bar. He knew he was being followed, but not by whom or why. He had a few hideaways that not even Ryder knew about that he could leave clues about how to find, although he assumed she’d be less than pleased at his secrets. He pushed that concern aside. They didn’t fall under _big stuff_ like murder or torture so they weren’t part of his promise to her. 

Of course, all of that would be pretty useless if he couldn't provide clues about who was after him.

Which led him to a plan. He'd have to intentionally slip up and get them in the open, then survive the consequences and trust that Ryder could get him out of whatever bind he ended up in. It was a shitty plan on many levels and he hated to involve her, but Ryder was the person he trusted most in two galaxies and had the added benefit of being excellent at physically kicking ass. Keema would back her up with whatever Collective resources might be necessary. If this was a play for the Pathfinder, Ryder would be warned before running into the trap. If it was a play for the Charlatan, he had two formidable women as his pocket aces in this game. Whoever came after the Charlatan would have to know that, so it wasn't just a matter of his having an excellent starting hand. He'd have to play the next cards dealt and make his bets wisely.

Sighing in annoyance, he finished his whiskey and slipped out without paying while Umi was distracted with a boisterous group of krogan. Reyes was a gambler but he was never a fan of playing with his life as the stakes, or that of Ryder. Whoever this was would end up paying with theirs if he won. 

***

The next few days passed in a convoluted game of cat and mouse as he tried to draw out his stalker. Reyes didn't go to his shuttle, Tartarus, or the apartment, wanting to keep the risk of damage to things and places he actually - to his own surprise - cared about to a minimum. He disabled his omnitool’s location and communications transmitters so that he couldn't be traced, and cycled between the three safehouses he'd used most often in the past to avoid leading them somewhere new.

He'd told Ryder that he'd be busy and out of touch for two to three days, and the same to Keema. Ryder had been slightly mystified, but was accustomed by now to his occasional off-the-grid jobs and didn't press him beyond telling him to be safe and call her as soon as he was done. Keema had narrowed her eyes when he'd gone to see her, already suspicious of his extended absence from his apartment and sensing there was more to it, but as with Ryder, she was accustomed to his eccentricities. It was one of the benefits of being so intensely private with his work; he only hoped it wouldn't end up being his downfall.

He finally caught a break on the fifth day of being followed. It was almost a relief that he hadn't been crazy or paranoid when he received a call from Kian warning him that someone had been in Tartarus asking questions about him. They'd paid handsomely for discretion, and Kian had happily pocketed the money and then reported up the channels to avoid being directly linked to Reyes. Smart man, and loyal. Now he knew that at least one of his opponents was a human male, and not from around here if he was asking about Reyes in Tartarus. 

He caught his second break when he reversed course suddenly after jogging around a corner in the docks and a human woman ran past in the direction he'd been going, then skidded to a stop and peered over the crowd. When she turned in his direction her gaze lit on him briefly and she kept walking, waving her hand as if to greet someone. He might have believed it if not for the flash of panic in her blue eyes when she'd spotted him.

He took advantage of the lapse and temporary freedom to duck into a maintenance access and get himself to a new safehouse via the sewers running under the port. It stank of sulfur and waste, so there would be no hiding where he'd been, but now that one of them had been spotted they'd know the game was up and move in on him. He needed to send what he'd learned to SAM: what had been happening, his thoughts on likely suspects, the two humans most likely to be in on it, the unanalyzed comm frequency scans he'd taken whenever he’d stepped out of Kralla's, hoping to pick up a consistent burst when his tail confirmed that he was on the move again.

Although small, there was a chance this safehouse had been compromised or that someone could simply overhear him the old-fashioned way - by listening. How to explain and record the information without it being immediately understood? He could say it in Spanish, but all human translators and most alien ones included the language by default. He needed to scramble it in case this location wasn’t as secret as he thought and Shelesh, his other language, was common as well.

Then he grinned, remembering a game called _jerigonza_ that he'd played as a kid in Chile. It was a simple linguistic switch where after every syllable, a “p” was added and the syllable’s vowel repeated with another “p” in front of it. He doubted most translators would parse the childish nonsense by default, but if SAM could translate the Remnant Jardaan language it would make quick work of _jerigonza_. “ _Hopolapa, apamopor_ …” he started.

When he was done, Reyes split everything into scrambled data files and scrolled through his contact list, looking for SAM’s direct frequency rather than the private channel he shared with Ryder. He'd picked it up when she'd been comatose after Meridian and never used it before now, so it was buried fairly deeply. 

As the connection established, he wondered what Ryder was doing now. Hopefully not fighting, although the AI should be able to handle a quick conversation and still help her fight. 

He missed her, deeply.

“Hello, Reyes,” SAM replied when the connection was made. “Did you mean to contact Ryder?”

“No. I need to ask you a favor, independent of her.”

If the AI could feel surprise, the extra half second before its next response probably indicated it. “How may I assist you?”

Reyes scrubbed hands over his face, feeling tired and trapped. Ryder would probably not be happy, but he hadn't been able to think of any other way to set an effective trap. He'd considered simply sending the data, but that would show a lack of respect for SAM and he'd resolved to treat the AI as an individual, as a person, not merely as another machine. “Can I share some data with you? I need you to hold it for me and give it to Ryder if something happens to me. Not yet, just...if I disappear.”

SAM’s pause was even longer this time - not surprising if it was calculating Ryder's likely reactions to this request. She considered her AI counterpart to be its own being in a symbiotic relationship with her, as did Reyes, but he didn't know if SAM considered itself an independent entity with free agency to fulfill a request like this.

“There is a high likelihood that she will be unhappy with both of us, Reyes,” it pointed out.

“I know. And I'm sorry, I know you need her to trust you and this request might impact that. I'm out of options though, and I don't want the people after me to know she has information about them. We both know she'll go on a rampage if something happens to me, even if I tell her not to. Maybe this way she'll use more caution.” 

“You are counting on her pursuing the leads in your data.”

There was no bullshitting a super-powered machine intelligence. “Yes.”

“There is a high likelihood that losing you would result in an irrational reaction. I will assist.”

Reyes sighed in relief. “Thank you.” He sent the data, encrypted and scrambled even if SAM’s QEC connection was already secure. There wasn't such a thing as being too careful. “It's possible I can handle this on my own and there's no need to worry her. But just in case…” He couldn't complete the sentence. _Just in case the worst happens and I'm killed tomorrow, she needs to know someone might be after her next_.

Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat, not at the idea of his own death but at leaving her alone, he told SAM one more thing. “The last file is my will. Everything not belonging to the Collective goes to her. There's more than she realizes and she needs to know how to access it.”

“Understood.”

“Keep her safe, okay? I'm not worth her dying over.”

“I hope it will not come to that, Reyes. Be well.” 

“You too,” Reyes replied. “Tell her I love her.” He closed the connection and sat back, feeling drained. Emotions had become secondary in the last week as he took refuge in the Charlatan, focusing only on figuring out the end game, but leaving a will for Ryder in the event of his death brought everything crashing home. She’d be devastated if he was killed. He'd resigned himself to the idea that it was only a matter of time long ago; criminals didn't often make it to old age, even those as careful as he. His odds had improved with Ryder at his side, but he was a romantic fool for thinking he’d grow old with her. He'd done too many bad things, hurt too many people. 

The maudlin feeling stayed with him as he went to shower. _Snap out of it_ , he told himself. What was done was done, and he didn't want to waste time dwelling on it. 

Hot water hit his skin, relaxing him. This was his favorite of the improvements to Kadara Port's infrastructure because it meant he no longer had to wait for the Tempest to dock to feel properly clean. The water still smelled faintly of sulfur, but it was always filtered and usually hot.

As the spray cascaded over him he pushed aside his worries and focused on Ryder. She was a week and a half into a two-week exploration mission, due back in a few days. He indulged himself in thinking about how he'd welcome her home if he managed to get the situation under control by then. She was always eager for him, but absence sent her libido soaring even higher. Their reunions tended toward savage and she gave as good as she got with love bites and nail gouges. He wore the marks as badges of honor, a testament to the passion he could draw from the outwardly aloof and scathingly sarcastic Pathfinder.

Ryder always came straight for him, a leopard with prey in sight, shedding armor and clothing in a trail from the door to wherever he was. After this mess was cleared up, he'd be sitting on the sofa with a glass of the Macallan she’d found for him on the Hyperion. He'd let her approach, drinking in the lust flashing in her turquoise-aquamarine eyes, and gather her in when she straddled his lap. 

As much as he preferred to be on top it was usually her who jumped him when she came home. Secretly, he liked her taking control, just in that one situation, reassured that she’d missed him enough to flip their usual roles and pursue him.

Thinking of the moment when she’d be in his arms again made the blood rush to his cock. He wanted her, badly. Wanted the way she’d grind into him when his arms went around her, the smoky-spice taste of her mouth from the angaran-style chipotle sauce she put on _everything_ after he’d found it for her, the way her neck smelled like amber and orange flower and _home_. He started stroking himself as water sprayed over him, imagining how she would nip the pulse points in his neck and try, with all her strength, to dominate him. It never quite worked - except for the one time she’d had SAM do something to her physiology - but it turned him on all the same. 

He imagined taking one of her nipples into his mouth, biting it to make her throw her head back and snarl, grinding into him harder. Bites always made her wild, and she’d pull his hair with one hand to force his head back and kiss him while her other hand opened his trousers. Pull his cock out and pump it almost hard enough to hurt until he was throbbing hard, and lower wet pussy onto it. She had a way of thrusting her hips forward and back while he was buried in her, sharply punctuated jerks of her hips that hit the tip of his cock and her G-spot in just the right place to bring on a quick orgasm for both of them. After weeks apart there was no particular care; they both just wanted to use the other to come as quickly as possible. Care came afterward. 

Reyes fixed on the feeling of his cock thudding within her, the unusual feeling of _not_ being in control as _she_ fucked _him_. Rode him, used him, with single-minded passion focused on a single goal: her orgasm. The way her hips rocked against him, the salty scent of her as heat rose from their joining, her nails dragging across his shoulders and the feel of her strong muscles and soft curves beneath his hands as they roved over her, holding her close. 

As hot as it was for her to ride him, he could never resist taking control. Forcing her onto her back on the couch, pinning her down with his grip around her throat as she clawed at the hand restraining her with one hand while pulling him deeper into her with the other hand on his ass. Fighting him and welcoming him, striving to master him even as she was mastered. He’d pin both of her hands over her head in one of his as he squeezed her throat tighter, making her gasp for breath as they both fought for an orgasm. 

And then the moment when she came, when her inner walls grasped his cock and wouldn’t let go...

He climaxed, groaning, the spurts of cum joining droplets of water swirling down the drain. He leaned back against the wall of the shower, panting as the water went from hot to tepid. Cold showers were not his thing, nor was it needed at this point, so he cranked the water off and toweled dry. 

Flopping down into the cot he’d set up in the corner, he covered his eyes with one arm and thought of Ryder, tried to plan out how he’d apologize for not telling her about this mess directly. She’d be angry, and he’d have to have a good reason why this particular case of _big stuff_ shouldn’t count as breaking his promise since death threats definitely fell under that heading. He’d welcome her anger this time; it would mean he’d succeeded and was alive, the victor once again. 

All he had to do was make it through tomorrow. 

***

When it happened, the moment was perhaps more sudden than either he or his adversaries had anticipated. 

Reyes had made his intentional mistake, allowing himself to be cornered in a dead-end, one he knew had no surveillance. His Sidewinder was drawn and pointed at the mouth of the alley, waiting for someone to come around the corner. The blue-eyed woman from yesterday, turned into the alley as well, only to realize she had Reyes trapped and her prey was aiming a gun at him. She drew a heavily-modded Eagle pistol, almost the twin of the one Ryder used to carry before switching to modified Remnant tech, said a few soft words into her omnitool, and waited, the Eagle leveled at Reyes even as his gun was leveled at her.

Reyes slipped into the mindset of the Charlatan. This was the moment of truth; he couldn't think about Ryder. There was only this moment and that pistol. He kept his aim steady, wanting to draw all of them in. Killing this one would be satisfying, but it would probably scare the others off.

A scraping sound from above alerted him to another player, one leveling what he thought was a Viper sniper rifle at him from the roof. “Drop it, Vidal,” a man’s voice said gruffly. He was placed with the sun directly behind him, making it difficult to see him. The Charlatan glanced between the two of them, keeping his Sidewinder on the woman, and the man shifted his aim slightly and shot a silenced round into the wall beside the Charlatan’s head. Chips of concrete bit into his neck, and he ignored the itchy sensation of blood as it started to drip. “Drop. It. The boss would prefer you alive, but we can take your little girlfriend if we have to kill you. Nice of you to tell her you’d be away for a few days, that should make it easier.”

 _Fuck. Ryder_. Carefully hiding his dismay behind a blank mask, he ignored the command while he considered the implications. He’d known this would happen someday, that the fact of who he was would put her at risk. And they’d bugged the safehouse he’d called her from because she always spoke to him on a QEC connection just in case someone tried to hack their way to listening in. That confirmed the suspicions he’d had. This shitshow just kept getting better. How could he best keep Ryder safe?

 _Live to fight another day_ , he decided, slowly lowering his pistol and placing it on the ground. “Kick it over here and put your hands up,” the woman ordered. He glared but did as she said. There was still a knife in his boot and one under his jacket at the small of his back.

They did nothing, only kept weapons trained on him. The Charlatan acted as if he couldn’t care less; as if it was his decision to stand in a stinking Kadaran alley with his hands raised. He leaned against the wall and propped a foot up behind him in false nonchalance, slightly bored by the fact that they hadn't either shot him or told him what they wanted.

Minutes later a third man joined the party, one Reyes recognized but had never thought to see again. He bit his tongue rather than react beyond straightening from his casual slouch against the wall. 

“The Charlatan, is it?” the familiar man asked, still as arrogant as he had been when Reyes had left the Nexus. 

The Charlatan snorted. “I wish, but they'd kill me for pretending I was. Slowly.”

His adversary rolled his eyes. “How droll. Take him,” he ordered, gesturing the other two forward. The sniper dropped down from his perch as the woman approached in a rush, shouting for him to keep his hands up. His smile was the snarl of Anubis as he let her get close. If he was to be taken alive, there was a chance to fight his way out of this.

He’d always been fast, and he was a trained fighter. The look of shock on her face when he disarmed her was satisfying, and he kept her as a shield while he pointed her pistol at her partner. They fired simultaneously. The woman’s chest exploded in a red spray, and he felt the burn of the Viper’s relatively low-powered bullet as it nearly made it through her back. The Charlatan’s shot took the man in the throat. With a gurgle, the sniper dropped. 

His last opponent shouted something, sounding scared, and cowered behind a crate. The Charlatan advanced slowly, hauling the dead weight of the woman as a shield as wild shots started streaking past. He’d almost managed to flank the coward when a stray bullet caught him in the thigh. 

Fire lanced through his leg and he dropped his human shield when he collapsed to one knee, but he lurched upright, swinging his gun up to aim at the fucker who thought he could corner the Charlatan in an alley and get away with it. The other man's eyes widened and his aim shifted. The Charlatan tried to dodge and fire at the same time, felt the thud of a heavy round in his gut as running steps and shouting indicated that the firefight had finally attracted the attention of passersby. He grunted at the pain that immediately radiated through him and slid down the wall, leaving a trail of red as the shooter fled from Kadaran citizens who weren't going to stand for another total closure of business like the kind that followed the last series of shootings in port. When he looked down, blood flowed from a wound midway down his left flank. That wasn't good; it was usually a crappy way to die slowly.

Not wanting to answer questions about why someone would want to shoot him or reveal himself to be alive - for now, anyway - with one of his adversaries still in the same state, the Charlatan dragged himself to a sewer grate and dropped down into the city's underside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who could the ringleader be?
> 
> Big thank you to the person in the FB group who helped me out with the _jerigonza_ \- I hope I got it right!


	2. The Flop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder receives a call. All is not well on Kadara.

Ryder couldn't wait to get home. Whatever Reyes’ secret business deal was, he knew that she was due back today and if the past was any indication, would be at home waiting for her. She felt a wave of heat between her legs at the idea of fucking him again after so long; the one time she really enjoyed being the aggressor was the day she returned home from a mission, and this was her first time away from him for an extended period since Meridian. The only thing that concerned her was that he hadn't gotten back in touch after that odd call a few days ago, saying he'd be out of contact for a few days. She worried, but he was the Charlatan. Harder than her, savvier, and involved in business it was better she not know about sometimes. 

_Keema will know what he's been up to lately_ , she reminded herself. 

As the Tempest prepared to jump to FTL, a call rang through on her personal channel. From her quarters she ordered Kallo to hold, recognizing the ID. Keema. _Speak of the devil_. She and the angaran woman were friends, close enough that Keema should know Ryder was due back on Kadara in the next day and that anything casual could wait.

“Keema, what's wrong,” Ryder answered the call tersely, praying that Reyes hadn't had a reason to be torturing people and working his employees to exhaustion again. 

“He's missing,” Keema replied, equally short. There was no need to specify who “he” was. Ryder rocked back in her chair, glad she was seated. Her stomach sank as she tied Reyes’ last conversation to Keema's news.

She didn’t bother to ask stupid questions. Reyes was secretive, but he never just disappeared and they both had enemies. “Last known location?”

“The market, generally. When I tried finding him, it looked like he'd switched off anything that could be used to track his location more definitively. Ryder...shots were fired in the market today. Two humans were found dead, but there was more blood in a different place in the alley. A lot of it, and red, so we're assuming another human at this point. Nobody else has been reported missing, but neither has anyone other than Umi actually seen Reyes in two days.” 

Ryder froze, mind racing as she processed the information. For a moment she was furious with Reyes; he’d _promised_ to tell her about _big stuff_ , on the pain of losing her, and whatever the hell he was mixed up in seemed pretty fucking big. Then her stomach flopped and started eating itself as she took in the fact that Keema was apparently as in the dark as she was about where Reyes was or what he’d been up to. Whether or not he’d broken his promise was irrelevant. If he was in danger - if he was hurt - she needed to find him. 

SAM broke into her thoughts on their private channel, sounding, for the first time she could remember, hesitant. “Ryder...I have a message from Reyes.”

“You what?!” Ryder exclaimed.

“I didn’t say anything,” Keema said, sounding confused. 

Ryder shook her head. “No, no. It’s SAM. He says he has a message from Reyes. SAM?”

The AI spoke through his desktop interface so that Keema could hear as well. “A few days ago, he contacted me directly and requested that I hold some data for him in the event that he disappeared.” Unable to contain herself and feeling acid racing along every line of her muscles, Ryder got up and started pacing the room. SAM continued. “It’s heavily encrypted and consists of a video message, as well as text and image files separated into packets.”

She stopped her pacing, one hand on her hip and the other holding her face in despairing frustration. He’d known this would happen, the bastard. He’d _known_ , tried to handle it on his own, and pulled SAM into it to boot. _Motherfucker_ , she raged mentally, followed swiftly by a horrified, _Is he still alive?_

“Well? What does it say?” Keema prompted. Ryder sighed. “Play the video first, SAM.”

He obliged, projecting it from his interface in place of his usual orb. An image of Reyes in a bare, unfamiliar room hovered over her desk. He looked tired, his face tight with repressed stress and his usually perfect coif slightly out of place, as if he’d been running his hands through it. “ _Hopolapa, apamopor…_ ”

“Umm...is it damaged?” Keema asked. “My translator is giving me gibberish.”

Ryder frowned. “Mine too. I have his native language switched off but that doesn’t sound the way it usually does and as far as I know, he only speaks Spanish, English, and Shelesh. SAM, from the cadence and knowing him that sounds like Spanish but...not. Am I missing something?”

SAM took a moment to reply. “No, Pathfinder. He appears to have recorded the message using a variation of an Earth children’s Spanish language game...a moment. Translation complete.”

The message restarted, the words dubbed and not lining up to the movement of Reyes’ mouth. “Hello, love.” Ryder forgot her earlier outrage and her heart melted at his sad, tired smile. “If you’re seeing this, then best case scenario is that I’ve disappeared. Possibly of my own choice, possibly not, but forced in either case.” _If that’s the best case, what’s the worst? Stars, please don’t let him be dead._ “Someone has been following me the last few days. I suspect my shuttle, our flat, and my usual safehouses, the ones you know about, are under surveillance, bugged, or both.” _He has_ more _safehouses? The man has more secrets than an onion has layers, and you will never get to the center of him_. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but he was still talking. “Kian reported a man asking questions about me in Tartarus, and I caught a blue-eyed woman tailing me in the docks. Have Keema check the security footage near the entrance from the market for the day of this video's timestamp.” 

Reyes paused, the grainy image of him scrubbing a hand over his face and then dragging his fingers through his hair, serving only to dishevel it further. “I don’t know whether they’re after the Charlatan or the Pathfinder, but I don’t think this is the Outcasts or the Collective. It’s too well organized and my shadows are too skilled. The Initiative or an elite Roekaar cell are my bets. If it’s the Initiative, they’ll probably try to use me to bring you down. If it’s the Roekaar, I’m already dead. My love…” he sighed and looked away from the camera. Swallowed hard. “I don’t think I can find the words to convince you not to pursue this. You’ve always been your own woman, and I adore you for it. Just remember I’m not worth dying over, okay?” His eyes returned to the lens, his golden gaze seeming to pierce time and space to reach hers. “I love you. I’ve never told you this before, but I’ve never loved anyone before you, and I never will again. You’re it, my queen. So live for us both, hey?”

The video cut off in static, and Ryder choked on a sob as tears rose. “Reyes, no,” she gasped. Keema said nothing, understanding the importance of letting emotion out and blessedly giving her a moment. Ryder fought and lost, overwhelmed by the idea that he’d known someone was gunning for him and let them do it, possibly sacrificing himself so that she would have a chance to evade them or avenge him. She should be angry at him for hiding this from her, but all she felt was regret that she’d been away when it all went down. Angry tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

“Ryder…” Keema finally broke in, softly out of respect for the situation. “What will you do now?”

She sniffled, breathed deeply in and out again. Then again, until her breath didn’t shudder with repressed tears when it left her. If Reyes could find a place without emotion to become the Charlatan, so could she. She was the Pathfinder, dammit. She needed to be more than a sniveling wreck. She _was_ more than a sniveling wreck, and some motherfuckers had a world of pain coming their way. Anger flared again, not at Reyes, but at those who thought they could take him from her. He might be a shady bastard, but he was _her_ shady bastard. It looked like someone needed to learn that the hard way.

Yeah. Anger was good. It got shit done. 

“I’m going after him. Can you have one of your people pick me up in Paradise?” She couldn’t take the Tempest in to Kadara, or Reyes’ enemies - her enemies, now - would know she was there. 

Keema didn’t hesitate. “Of course. I’ll coordinate with the captain on Elaaden. Anything else?”

“I’m one of the most recognizable humans in the Heleus cluster, so I’m going to have to disguise myself. Tell your contact I’ll say, ‘You look like you’re waiting for someone.’” 

The angaran woman confirmed, then closed the channel. Ryder took a few minutes to change her clothes, from her usual synthleather jacket and scarf to a baggy Blasto tank top Peebee had given her as a joke. Then she headed straight for the Tempest’s medical suite, shouting for Kallo to take them to Elaaden on the way. There was a moment of confusion from the salarian pilot. “Elaaden? Not Kadara?”

“Elaaden, Kallo, and then Cora will have command for a while.” He was wise enough not to question her, jumping the Tempest to FTL instead. 

Lexi jumped as Ryder stormed into the medbay. “Ryder, what -”

Ryder ignored her and opened the facial reconstruction suite. “SAM, can you log my current appearance for recovery later?”

“Affirmative.”

“Do it.” On his confirmation, she toggled through the options as Lexi hovered, watching. Her hair went first, morphing from its sleek blue bob to a shoulder-length mane of the dark brown curls she’d been born with. She erased the clawmark scar under her left eye and the mandala tattoo from her right cheek and ear, substituting them for a tattooed collar of hexagonal cells. Forced her eyes from their natural bright turquoise to a rich, dark purple. The pixelated makeup beneath her eyes became a wide black mask like Peebee’s. 

_That should do it_ , she thought. After finalizing the program, she turned to Lexi. “How do I look?”

The doctor stared, eyebrows lifted. “...Not like the human Pathfinder?”

Ryder stomped out. “Perfect!” she shouted over her shoulder. 

***

The entire flight from Elaaden to Kadara, Ryder kept waiting for the krogan pilot to recognize her as they bantered back and forth about the best way to kill kett and the most creative ways they had done so. By the time they landed in Kadara Port, they were fast friends. 

“I’m Tox. What’s your name, runt?” he asked good-naturedly as she stepped off. Ryder had a moment of panic. She couldn’t give her real name, but gaining goodwill among the krogan was always a good thing. “Sara,” she said, giving her middle name. “I owe you for this. You ever need a favor, go to Tartarus and leave my name with Kian.”

The krogan huffed a hearty laugh. “Naw, orders to get you here quickly came down from the Charlatan by the sound of it.” His craggy face turned sly as he caught wind of the opportunity in that. “If you insist, though…”

Ryder laughed. “I insist. Thanks, Nakmor Tox.” She headbutted him, dazing herself slightly but solidifying the young male’s opinion of her if his low _heh heh heh_ was any indication. She’d always liked the krogan. They were straightforward and relatively uncomplicated, and the headache of dealing with them was usually from the headbutts. 

As she strode through the docks and then the market, Ryder tried to remind herself to keep her pace purposeful, but unhurried. She didn’t want to be bothered, but she needed to get to Collective HQ, to get home, as soon as she could. Whatever had happened to Reyes, she needed to compare notes with Keema before going out to search for him, and it sounded as though she was masquerading as the Charlatan in Reyes’ absence. 

The guards on the door, one angara, one turian, were on high alert. Normally she’d have breezed past them, her face known to all of the guards in HQ, but it seemed her disguise was working. She was lucky one of the krogan wasn’t on the door or he’d have smelled that it was her, but angaras’ best sense was touch and turians’ was hearing. Ryder didn’t answer their questions, just let them pat her down and take her weapons before entering. They handled her roughly but apparently, Keema had warned them that someone would be coming to see her because they frogmarched her in, distrustful of her silence but not wanting to cross Kadara Port’s boss. 

Keema turned sharp eyes on her as they approached the throne, squinting and cocking her head. Then her mouth twitched and she stepped down, gesturing for the guards to release Ryder and give her weapons back as she headed for the private reception room. “This is unexpected. Come with me.” 

When they were behind closed doors, Keema abruptly reached out and tried to touch Ryder’s face. “Hey!” Ryder protested, backpedaling. She was _really_ not the touchy-feely type unless it was Reyes doing the touchy-feeling. “It’s me, Keema.” With a brief Reyes-esque smirk she said, “You look like you’re waiting for someone.”

“Stars and skies,” Keema breathed. “Ryder, I’ve never seen such a convincing disguise.”

Ryder shrugged. “We have some interesting tech on the Tempest. I don’t know who decided we might need a facial reconstruction suite, but it came in handy today.” She collapsed into a plush chair and scrubbed her hands over her face. “I’m assuming that you’ve had no luck locating him,” she said darkly. 

Keema shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. I assumed the worst when we found that alley. We haven’t received a ransom, so my hope is that he’s still out there and alive but in hiding. I’ve been playing Charlatan in the meantime to keep things going and hopefully confuse his pursuers. We’re at a delicate stage in implementing the trade agreement he negotiated with your Nexus leadership.”

Ryder digested that, turning it over in her mind. Was it a coincidence that Reyes was removed now? He’d taken point in the negotiations with Tann and the other useless gits who led the Initiative - as Reyes Vidal, smuggler, not as the Charlatan - but had someone figured out that he was more than he seemed? Or were they just trying to remove the key player in the negotiations? She knew better than anyone how much Tann hadn’t wanted that deal. He’d tried to give her an earful about it later, but she’d ended the call and rolled over in bed to kiss Reyes instead, finding it a much better use of her mouth than arguing with that pompous ass. 

In hindsight, maybe that had been a bad idea, but as much as she hated Tann, she was reluctant to believe he was behind this. His MO was to try to manipulate people; he fancied himself to be cleverer than anyone else. His unleashing of Nakmor Morda during the uprising on the Nexus showed that he wasn’t completely unwilling to use force, but when she’d exiled Spender she’d discovered how much of that clusterfuck was on the human rather than the director. 

Still...it all kept circling back to the Initiative. The Roekaar had been quiet with the kett gone, and support for them was dwindling as Ryder’s activation of the vaults, formalized trade with the Nexus, and the removal of Sloane increased opportunities for the angara and decreased complaints against the Milky Wayers. She knew Reyes still worried that he hadn’t caught all the dissenters in the Collective, but he’d been both thorough and demonstrative in his punishments of those he had caught. Logically, it was too soon for them to make another attempt, if there were even any left. 

“What do you know about third-party threats? Someone not Initiative or Collective?” Ryder asked. Keema pondered, tapping the arms of the chair she’d settled in while Ryder thought. “Despite what Reyes said, this doesn’t feel like the Roekaar. New Tuchanka seems content to focus on New Tuchanka. There are a few holdouts with the Outcasts, but they’ve relocated to Elaaden for the most part. I suppose it could be one of them, with the skills Sloane collected in her people.” Her voice turned bitter at the mention of her dead enemy. “As for others…a few comments in Kralla’s and Tartarus, but we don’t punish people just for talking. I’ve scoured our surveillance and found that woman Reyes mentioned, but she must be a recent arrival or in from Ditaeon because I don’t have anything else on her.” 

Ryder nodded. “Show me the footage?”

Keema pulled it up on a datapad and handed it over. “We found both of them dead in an alley after reports of shots fired. We couldn’t identify the donor of some of the blood and there are no surveillance cameras in that area of the port.” _Which he would have known, so he was probably trying to trap them and get away with murder if need be_ , Ryder thought, her stomach sinking. 

She played the video of the market and watched intently, almost missing Reyes when he came on screen. The man was frighteningly good at blending in with a crowd and avoiding security cams. When he darted around a corner a woman, moving with more urgency than the rest of the crowd, paused, spotted him, and then turned and waved in the opposite direction. Ryder rewound the footage, pausing when most of her face was on the screen. “SAM?”

“Kailee Ritter, formerly a member of Sloane’s security team during the uprising. She sided with Director Tann and remained on the Nexus when Sloane was exiled, but her file indicates that she was recently expelled for unjustified retaliatory violence to a protester who participated in the more recent unrest in Hydroponics.”

“Interesting,” Ryder murmured. No longer Nexus, but not Collective, Outcast or settler, either. “This worries me. If we have a new Milky Way or human faction in play, that will complicate things. Anything special about her background? How’d she get tapped for security?”

“Prior to joining the Initiative, Ms Ritter was a counterterrorism agent on the Citadel. She resigned after the geth attack and did mercenary work before applying to the Initiative.”

Ryder pinched her nose. Skilled and dangerous. Keema frowned. “I don’t know what the Citadel or the geth are, but it sounds like she knows what she’s about.”

“Yeah. Definitely that. We’re lucky that Reyes being a shady bastard gave him the skills to catch her because we shouldn’t have. I almost certainly would have missed her if it was me, and having SAM is the only reason I say ‘almost’.”

There was another piece to the puzzle though: the man Kian had reported. “What do we have on the asshole asking stupid questions in Tartarus?”

Keema took the datapad back and flipped to another file, showing security footage of a blond man with dark eyes. SAM volunteered information without being asked this time. “Jeremy Crast, also formerly of Sloane’s security team. He recently left the Nexus after being tied to a suspicious death and was previously dishonorably discharged from the Alliance military for confidential reasons prior to joining the Initiative.”

With a snort, Ryder flipped to Kian’s report. “Garson was inspirational, but she was a little too optimistic when it came to giving people second chances,” she muttered. Probably why the woman was dead now. 

Skimming Kian’s report gave her about as much as she’d expected. Someone who clearly wasn’t from around here asking questions about the wrong man in the wrong bar. Closing the report, she handed the datapad back to Keema and tipped her head back to think. “Do we have their omnitools?”

The angaran woman shook her head, scowling. “Self-destructed when we removed them. I have two people in medical with severe burns to their hands and faces.”

“Shit,” Ryder growled, making a mental note to set hers to do the same. There was too much information that could be twisted and viewed as incriminating - as if being the live-in girlfriend of the Heleus cluster’s biggest crimelord wasn’t enough. _Reyes, why do you make everything so complicated?_

That thought was swiftly followed by another. “I wonder if that’s what this is about…” she mused aloud. Keema made a gesture indicating that she should explain. “These are Nexus people who have been exiled for crimes they may feel were justified. And yet, the Initiative just agreed to an alliance and massive trade deal with the Collective, an organization widely viewed as criminal on the Nexus thanks to Tann. Reyes, a known smuggler who left the Initiative after the uprising, led the negotiations. What if it’s about...I don’t know...payback? Or making a point of some kind, something about Sloane?”

Keema tapped her chin thoughtfully. “It’s possible. I don’t have a better reason for why someone would target Reyes, so we may as well use that as our working theory for now.” She stood. “Shall we go to the crime scene and see if your scanner can pick up anything?”

Ryder stood as well, shaking her head in negation. “If the crime scene evidence is already degraded and his two stalkers are dead, I want to go after Reyes. He might be hurt. SAM, did he leave any clues about where he might be hiding if he’s alive?” 

“I believe so, but part of the message is missing. I believe he may have left physical clues in some locations.” 

_Complicated man_ , Ryder thought with a mixture of worry and exasperated fondness. “Fine. Keema, stay here, please. If there are more to this group and they’re all as dangerous as these two, surprise is my best chance at finding Reyes and having the director of the port along with me is going to draw attention.”

The other woman slumped but nodded, her mask cracking as the angaran habit of being free with emotions finally started to reassert itself, and Ryder saw how much she cared for Reyes. Gathering her strength and drawing Keema into a hug, she said, “Don’t worry. I’ll find him. _Nobody_ is taking our Reyes from us.” Keema’s shoulders dropped in relief at Ryder’s easy acknowledgment of her platonic love for the man. “Bring my brother home,” she said fiercely, squeezing Ryder before stepping back. “And here, take this.” 

She unbuckled her belt and handed Ryder the beautifully tooled, wickedly sharp _firaan_ dagger that usually rode at her hip. “If you find someone to take vengeance on, I want to feel like I had a piece of it.” Ryder accepted it solemnly and tucked the sheathed dagger into her boot as she’d seen Reyes do a hundred times. She’d never seen this side of her friend before, but she had a feeling she’d be seeing a new side of herself as well if anything had happened to Reyes.

As Ryder stormed out of Collective HQ, already fixated on SAM’s first navpoint, she reflected that whoever these assholes were, they’d chosen the wrong people to fuck with. Between her and Keema, they’d be made to regret their poor choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to know what you guys think! This isn't my usual kind of story, so I'm kind of nervous O_O.


	3. The Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder searches for Reyes in Kadara Port.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to everyone who commented or left kudos! I was going to release all of the last three chapters at once, but your feedback got me excited to post the next chapter.

Spring was just ending on Kadara, which meant the heat was rising, the air was still thick with humidity, and the winds continued to blow fitfully. Not as wildly as they did at the peak of the equinox, but enough that Ryder was dodging the occasional flying bits of rubbish as she scoured Kadara Port for Reyes’ clues.

The first had been an image. The location data had been stripped out so SAM calculated where it must have been taken from, directing Ryder to the alley next to Kralla’s Song. Scratched into the wall nearby was half a set of coordinates, the other half having been delivered as a text file with a passphrase. The two coordinate halves combined to take her to the market, where the stall owner handed her a pistol barrel mod when she said the phrase. 

She wandered off, confused but pretending that was exactly what she'd been expecting, only to find coordinates that SAM said were in the slums scratched into it. Realizing that he’d probably be hurt if she found him, she spared a few minutes to buy some water, medigel, rags, and a satchel to carry it all in, paying the merchants’ ridiculous prices rather than waste time haggling. She kicked herself for forgetting to grab something from the storeroom in HQ, but at the same time, she couldn’t have given herself away by waltzing in and using the Pathfinder’s passcodes.

In the slums, she found a datapad hidden in the wall of a prefab unit with an image she recognized as the view from the top of the shipping containers where they'd made out after Sloane's party. Her heart clenched at the memory, but she pressed on. This wasn’t the time for reminiscing.

It struck her that he must have planned this months ago, preparing for a day he'd probably hoped would never come but was too realistic - and too paranoid - to risk not having a plan against. Knowing Reyes, it was probably one of several such convoluted plans. She'd had to backtrack twice and was starting to hope he hadn't been too clever for his own good.

The stress of following his obscure clues was compounded by the knowledge that someone might be watching, might have figured out that she was the Pathfinder and be targeting her, too. She tried to remind herself that she looked nothing like the blue-haired, turquoise-eyed Pathfinder with the distinctive facial tattoo and scars. Seeing her dark curls whipped by the wind was a comforting reminder that she was wearing an effectively permanent disguise that even Scott would have to look twice to see through.

Finally, the trail of clues led her to a warehouse on the fringe edge of the markets, on the cliffs that made up the northeastern boundary of the port. She kept walking, looking for both more clues and possible tails, but spotted evidence of neither. Still, she circled the block, looking for the least conspicuous way to make her entrance. If this was the place, he’d probably put measures in place to discourage casual entry, and she didn’t fancy crouching in the street to disarm whatever nasty traps he’d come up with.

Nothing satisfied, with all of the doors visible from the street, so she quickly climbed up a fire escape to the roof. _There_. A skylight.

Crouched low to avoid showing up against the sky, she scuttled over and wiped away a thick layer of dust to peer below. Seeing a convenient stack of crates to drop onto, she tested the window. Locked, and a quick scan showed a trap that SAM was able to disarm with a variation of one of the frequencies Reyes used to secure his shuttle. Her stomach turned over. This was the place.

With the trap disarmed, she fried the lock, lifted the window, and slipped inside, hanging on the lip of the opening by her fingers before dropping lightly onto the crates. It was a long but doable jump down, and she crouched in cover when she landed, waiting for her eyes to adjust. If Reyes was here and capable of doing so, he'd probably be waiting in the darkness to see who had just broken in. It wouldn’t do for him to shoot her as she attempted to come to his rescue.

No sounds came from the shadows as she waited, breathing slowly and shallowly to avoid breathing in the dust kicked up by her landing. Reyes could skulk like the master criminal he was though, and he was infinitely more patient than she, so she could potentially be waiting longer than they had if he was injured. Ryder scuffed a foot softly to see if it drew any reaction. Nothing. 

“Reyes?” she whispered. Still nothing. “SAM?” 

“There is a weak lifesign from deeper in the warehouse. I am unable to identify it from here.” 

_Weak because it’s him and he’s hurt, or because it’s something smaller, like a lost adhi pup?_ she wanted to ask and didn’t. She had a feeling she knew, and the AI wouldn’t be able to answer until she got closer. She started in the direction SAM indicated, creeping along the wall. On an impulse, she flicked her scanner on. Orange-tinted blackness was the only thing that showed until she reached an open area with a wide grate in the floor, presumably for drainage.

It was open, and the edges flared brightly.

 _That can’t be blood, please let that not be blood, not his, there’s too much!_ Her omnitool trilled when SAM got a lock and her throat seized up as her heart thundered. She wanted to know, but she didn’t. He told her anyway.

“It is blood, a match for Reyes.” 

Her head spun. Lots of blood, a weak lifesign...he was here, and alive, but probably not for much longer. She whirled, looking for the trail he would have left. Spotted it, long dragging marks that alternated with a single large handprint, glowing yellow in the scanner. He’d crawled out, and kept going. 

Without a thought for further threats, Ryder took off after the trail, ignoring whatever SAM was saying. His voice was a buzz in the back of her mind, overridden by the thundering of Reyes’ name. 

She almost ran past him in her panic, skidding to a stop when the track suddenly ended. Swinging the scanner back, she froze when it flared on a dirty heap against the wall, tucked between a few crates. “Oh stars, no,” she prayed, dropping to her knees and toggling from the scanner to the flashlight. 

It was Reyes, loosely curled into a ball around a wound in the left side of his abdomen, his right hand bloody where he’d tried to stanch the flow of blood. His left hand gripped his knife and had apparently slipped from where he’d tried to cover a gunshot to his left thigh. He was filthy and he stank, as if he’d traveled here via the sewers, and his breathing was too fast, too shallow. When she touched his face, he was burning. _Infection_ , an oddly cold part of her mind said. _Blood loss from gunshot wounds_. Another part of her tried to recoil at the sickly-sweet rotten smells of sewage and infection, to panic at the idea that she was close to losing him, and it was quickly overshadowing the logical side. With pure force of will, she shoved it aside. “Reyes!” she shouted as she touched his face again, unsurprised when he was unresponsive but needing to check. She opened a call to Keema. 

“I found him,” she snapped as soon as it connected. “It might be too late. Send…” she shuddered as she grated the words out. “Send a cleanup crew with a body bag. Make sure there’s a medic with them. He’s been shot at least twice, high fever suggesting an infection, unresponsive, rapid, shallow breathing and pulse. He needs Nakamoto but if we move him in the open or bring the doctor here we’re putting everyone at risk if the fucker who shot him is still out there. There will be traps on the entries. I got in from the roof and it looks like he came via the sewers. SAM, send the navpoint.”

As soon as Keema confirmed the information she ended the call and turned to the task of trying to stabilize Reyes. He was safest on his side as he was. Blood loss was probably a bigger issue than the fever just now, although either would kill him soon. Carefully, she peeled his hand away from his side. He stirred weakly, the knife slipping from his grip as he reflexively tried to defend himself but remained unconscious. “Hey, my love, it’s just me, it’s Ryder, I’m here…” 

Swallowing past a lump in her throat, she continued in a stream of reassuring nonsense as she inspected the gunshot in his side, hissing through her teeth as the ugly injury was exposed. There was no exit wound, so the light armor he’d had incorporated into his pilot’s jumpsuit after Mantis’ betrayal must have been enough to reduce the impact somewhat, but that meant the bullet was still in somewhere. She didn’t have the skill or the tools to remove it, so she squeezed medigel into the wound and then tucked a rag in under his clothes to stanch a trickle of blood before turning her attention to his thigh. 

That injury was a heavy graze, missing the meat of the muscle but making a deep groove in the side of his leg. She slathered medigel on it, pressed a cloth to it, and knotted a few more together to make a length of cloth that would loop around his thigh and hold it tight.

Wishing there was more she could do for him, she cracked open a bottle of water and dampened one of the remaining rags. It wasn’t cold, but it was cooler than he was. She set one on his forehead and over his eyes, and another on the back of his neck. “Hang in there, Reyes. Please, for me,” she whispered. His shallow panting was her only response. As she sat in the dark waiting for help to come she tried to ignore the fear that he’d be dead before anyone got to them. 

***

Hours later, Ryder sat on the floor of the morgue, feeling numb as she rested her aching head on her knees. Reyes’ blood had dried and started to flake on her hands, but she barely noticed. 

He’d been alive when Keema’s people had arrived with a pair of flitters. The clever woman had packed it with security staff who had explained that they were to make it look like an arrest while the medic’s team had gotten Reyes into the body bag waiting open on a stretcher. She’d done all that could have been done to stabilize him, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the black bag as he was zipped in with just enough of an opening for air. 

She’d kept a hard face while her hands were cuffed behind her, choking on the sob of rage and sorrow that wanted to erupt from her throat, knowing that if word got out later that the Pathfinder had been here both she and Reyes would want to hear the story of her strength, not how she’d fallen apart. Besides, this wasn’t real. He wasn’t really dead, they were just putting on a show. She’d repeated it to herself, a reminder and a prayer as she was led to the flitter.

Then he’d died en route to the morgue, where Nakamoto officially waited to perform an autopsy but was on standby to save Reyes’ life.

The security staff didn't know who they were escorting undercover and had kept the cuffs on for appearances’ sake. It was probably a good thing because something in her had snapped when he’d flatlined and without the physical restraint keeping her still, she probably would have done something resulting in the crash of the flitter. As it was, her heartrate had skyrocketed as she hyperventilated in complete panic, and SAM had mercifully rendered her unconscious with a half-heard apology on their private channel.

She'd awakened on a slab next to a revived but unconscious Reyes, a needle in her arm and a long red-filled tube linking them. 

Dr Nakamoto, a nervous expression on his face, had looked up from the surgery he'd been performing on Reyes’ abdomen. “This goes against all medical ethics, but he needs blood and we haven't gotten a blood bank set up yet,” he said defensively, glancing at the transfusion tube. “Keema told me...who you are. I figured you would consent. Anyway, he'll need more but you're keeping him alive until we can find another donor. We're lucky he's AB positive and you're O negative.”

 _The universal receiver and the universal donor_ , Ryder had recalled fuzzily. _Lucky indeed_. Exhausted, she’d nodded. Reyes was alive, and this was the only thing that she could do now to help keep him that way. She'd closed her eyes surrendered herself back to SAM’s induced sleep.

The next time she'd awakened, Nakamoto had been working on Reyes’ thigh. A bag of blood had been strung up on a pole, indicating that they'd found a new donor, hopefully one that matched him more closely. She'd tried to sit up and nearly passed out, her vision going white and her head spinning. Both the doctor and SAM told her that she’d given a lot of blood, more than was usually taken from a single donor, and needed to rest. She'd lain back down with black spots dancing behind her eyelids, mind and heart both racing for different reasons. Reyes was alive, but for how long? And was there still another shooter out there somewhere?

The next time she'd floated back to consciousness had been to the sound of Keema’s voice between her and Reyes.

“Will he make it?” she’d asked, a hard note in her voice. Ryder had kept her eyes closed, pretending to sleep still. 

Nakamoto sighed. “I've done what I can for the bullet wounds. He's still got a vicious infection that I've had to use the Oblivion bacteria to treat, so there may be complications there. I don't dare give him pain medication on top of it, and I can't give him a larger dose to numb the pain or he risks addiction, so he's going to be hurting if he wakes up.”

“ _When_ he wakes up,” Keema had snarled. 

A shifting sound from the doctor’s direction, but no reply. 

“And Ryder?” 

“I had to take a more blood from her than I really should have in order to start operating on Vidal, but she'll be fine. She just needs fluids and rest. A lot of both. But Keema…” A surprising note of steel had entered his voice. “They can't stay here, or at the clinic. I'm grateful for all the three of you have done for the clinic, but if whoever put those holes in Vidal comes looking to make sure he's dead, I can't knowingly put my staff or other patients in danger.”

With a sigh, Keema had replied, “I know, doctor. I can appreciate not wanting to put innocents at risk. My people are waiting to take them elsewhere as soon as they're stable.”

They'd left, talking about the medical items that would be needed for the journey to wherever Keema was planning on sending them, and Ryder had eased herself off of her slab, grasping the edge until her head stopped spinning and then turning to Reyes.

He looked awful. His skin was pallid and dark circles ringed his eyes. His filthy clothes had been cut off and discarded, leaving him covered only with a sheet. He looked thinner than he had when she'd left for her mission two weeks ago and she wondered if he'd been able to eat or had simply forgotten. It wouldn't be the first time he got wrapped up in an objective and ignored basic needs. 

Hot tears slid down her face as she took his hand, wondering if this hopeless rage and fear were what he'd felt when she'd been stabbed on Elaaden or collapsed after Meridian. The tears had gone from a trickle to a flood and her knees had given out, which was how she'd come to be sitting where she was now, head buried in arms pillowed atop her knees.

If she'd been faster, if she'd pressed him harder when he'd said he'd be out of touch for a few days, would he be here, hovering this close to death? She'd sobbed until exhausted numbness had fallen over her. No wonder Reyes held onto the Charlatan when he was emotionally stressed. It was better than feeling...this. Knowing that she couldn’t fix this and could do nothing to force him into being who he wasn’t, but wishing she could do more to keep him safe. 

Soft footsteps announced Keema. Ryder looked up from her place next to Reyes’ slab, not bothering to scrub the tears and snot from her face. That was the nice thing about an angaran friend; they thought more of you for showing emotion, not less. 

Keema’s eyes widened and she darted to Reyes, slumping in relief when she realized he was still alive. “You scared me!” she scolded, and Ryder shrugged. Her friend squatted next to her on the floor and pulled her into a hug, resting her temple against the top of Ryder’s head. Ryder stiffened, momentarily uncomfortable, and then figured they could both use the reassurance.

“I’m going to find who did this, and make them pay,” Ryder growled in a thick voice after a minute, sniffling and reaching for the anger simmering in her gut. “He may be Anubis, but I’m Neith, and our enemies _will_ pay.” 

Keema _hmm_ ed. “I never understood the significance of his callsign.” Ryder snarled, thinking back to the archaeology classes she’d taken back in the Milky Way. “In one of the ancient human cultures, Anubis was a god of the dead and the afterlife. He also had a few lesser-known names, like Master of Secrets, and was responsible for controlling the impulses of those who sought to sow disorder.”

“That’s...oddly fitting. And Neith?”

Ryder’s smile was cold. “A goddess in the same culture. She was sometimes a mediator who helped Anubis judge the dead, and other times, a huntress and warrior who was called ‘the terrifying one’. If the two corpses you already found didn’t act alone, their friends are going to regret moving against him.”

Keema nodded. “Also fitting.” The two women sat in silence for a few more moments. “Just don’t get yourself killed. I like having a sister again,” she said, squeezing Ryder’s shoulder and standing. Ryder blinked, feeling oddly touched, and took the hand Keema extended to help her up as Keema changed gears. “We need to go. People are asking questions about Reyes. I’ve quietly let out a rumor that he’s dead and we took a suspect in his murder - you - into custody in the hope that someone will try to confirm it. Then we’ll have them.”

It was a good plan, certainly the best that could be managed with Ryder weakened and Reyes completely incapacitated. Nodding, she steadied herself on the table and planted a quick kiss on Reyes’ forehead. It was dry and hot with fever, and she swallowed as more tears threatened. “Hang in there, love. We’ll get you safe, and then we’ll destroy our enemies.” There would be no mercy from the Pathfinder this time. She may not have Reyes’ capacity for torture, but she would happily put a bullet between the eyes of anyone involved in the plot to kill him. 

Frontier judgment at its finest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They've found Reyes...but what about that third mystery guy?


	4. The River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder and Keema get Reyes out of Kadara Port and discover who shot him.

Under the cover of darkness, a hooded and cuffed Ryder was escorted to a nearby flitter and flown out to a small, anonymous homestead in Spirit’s Ledge. Against Nakamoto’s strong protests, Reyes had been gently bundled into a crate and loaded into a shuttle, along with a few other crates marked as ammunition and foodstuffs but which really contained medical equipment, that flew toward Draullir until it was out of sensor range of the port before doubling back to skim through the canyons behind the city and arrive at the same homestead. Reyes arrived a little worse for wear, but it was either that or risk his enemies discovering he was still alive before Ryder and Keema were in a position to do something about it. 

Ryder forced herself to stay seated and out of the way while the same Collective medic who had come to the warehouse set up a makeshift clinic in the homestead’s small bedroom. A pair of glorified camp cots made up the bed, and he was shivering on it, still in the grips of fever. The medic gave him another injection of the weakened Oblivion bacteria and he stilled as the drug quickly took hold. 

She’d called in the Tempest from the flitter; it should be here in a few hours with medicine that offered less risk of addiction. There was a forward station not far from the homestead where the Nomad could be airdropped with supplies and an antibiotic without the risk of addiction; hopefully, no-one would notice if the Tempest itself didn’t enter atmosphere. She was still debating about changing her face back but didn’t want the attention the Tempest would garner.

For now, she’d settle for finishing the bottle of juice Keema had sent with her and a long nap. When the medic, an asari named Lissa, stepped out, Ryder slipped in and curled up next to Reyes. After a moment’s thought, she shifted to put her back to his right side so that she wouldn’t be tempted to wrap herself around him and disturb his injuries. She probably shouldn’t even be on the cot with him, but she’d been so scared that he wouldn’t make it. Still was, behind the wall she’d built to stop herself thinking about it. How much trouble could it make for her to sleep next to him?

It turned out to have been a good decision. A fever dream washed over him as night turned to morning, and he started thrashing. His nightmares were bad enough when he wasn't injured, feverish, and under the influence of a milder form of Oblivion; with those additions to his physical state they appeared to worsen. 

There would be no waking him; he hadn’t regained consciousness yet and she doubted she could shake him awake now. “Lissa!” she called as he snarled and groaned in his sleep. He didn’t like to be touched when he had a nightmare, during or after, but he was going to reopen his wounds if he didn’t lay still. Desperate, she sat on his chest, trying to avoid kicking the shot in his abdomen.

“Reyes, listen to me. Reyes!” If anything, he thrashed harder. Lissa pounded in. “Get a sedative or something!” Ryder ordered. 

“Nakamoto said that was to be the last resort,” Lissa protested. Ryder trapped one of Reyes’ wrists as he lashed out, grazing her cheek. “Trust me, it’s necessary,” she snarled as she tried to keep him from twisting and tearing his stitches out. With a muttered curse, Lissa rummaged in one of the medical crates and prepped a needle. 

“Hold his arm still,” she directed. Ryder extended the one she’d caught and pinned it under her knee. Lissa jabbed him in the meat of the deltoid with a quick-release injector and rubbed it in. Within moments, Reyes slumped. Ryder scrambled off of him so that Lissa could check his bandages, wincing when she saw that he had indeed torn his stitches open and fresh blood was staining the bandages red. It looked like Nakamoto had had to cut away some bad flesh, and Ryder swallowed, hard. It was one thing to be injured herself, and quite another to see Reyes in this condition.

“I’m sorry, love,” she whispered in his ear as Lissa cleaned and stitched the wound. “I came as quickly as I could. You should have told me sooner; we could have faced this together.” Unwanted tears rose and soaked the pillow as she hid her face in the spot where his neck and shoulder met, where he smelled most strongly of _Reyes_. At this point, she didn’t care if Lissa saw.

“You’re the Pathfinder, aren’t you,” the medic said after a few minutes. It wasn't a question, and Ryder looked up with a challenging glare. “And if I am?” she replied in a low, dangerous voice that would have done the Charlatan proud, tears still running down a face that wasn't entirely hers and ready to kill the asari for the wrong answer.

Lissa turned her attention back to her stitching, wisely avoiding a confrontation. “I'm glad he has you. He piloted the shuttle that got me off the Nexus when Tann and the others betrayed us, even though he wasn't part of the Uprising. He deserves someone as loyal to him as you are, because he got us here safely. He's a good man, and it's nice to see someone from the Nexus has the sense to see it.”

Taken completely by surprise, Ryder broke down, crying hopelessly into Reyes’ chest. If there was one thing she knew Reyes believed about himself, it was that he wasn't a good man. Her only hope at this point was that he'd wake up and hear Lissa’s words for himself.

***

She awoke later that afternoon to the smell of something delicious. After Lissa had finished fixing Reyes’ torn stitches, Ryder had crawled back onto the cot beside him, determined to protect him from himself again if need be. He hadn't stirred under the influence of the sedative, and she'd fallen into a restless sleep.

Whatever was cooking smelled heavenly and she dragged herself out of bed, keenly feeling the dirty clothes she'd slept in and the blood she'd donated.

Drack was in the kitchenette, the old krogan rumbling to himself as he seasoned whatever was on the stove. “Hey, kid,” he said without turning around. He could smell her, she was sure. 

“Good to see you, Drack,” she replied, meaning it as she dropped onto the bench behind the table edging the kitchenette. If he was here, so were the medical supplies that could help Reyes.

“How's my nephew doing?” Ryder wasn't sure when Drack had unofficially adopted Reyes, but the bond between the two was both strong and undeniable. Neither would talk about it, but the respect between them ran deep. Ryder had a feeling she didn't want to know what Reyes had done to earn it, given that Drack was the kind of fellow who wouldn’t blink at dropping a prisoner over a cliff’s edge.

“He's alive. Had a rough night, but he made it through.” She slumped onto the table, still tired.

The old man nodded solemnly. “Night's the hardest time. Good man. I'd cut his balls off and feed them to him if he died on you.” Ryder blinked at the idea but decided not to comment on it. “What are you cooking, and can I have some?”

Drack laughed, his familiar _heh heh heh_ soothing her. The old man was like the grandfather she'd never known and while Vetra was her best friend on the Tempest crew, he was the one she most wanted nearby just now. “Knew you'd want to try this. Heard you lost some blood, so this is my special regeneration recipe.” He shoveled a generous serving of whatever it was onto a disposable plate and set it in front of her along with a fork. Ryder still couldn't identify it but didn't care. She was starving and it smelled heavenly. Drack watched with approval as she scraped the plate clean, then licked it, freezing and looking at him guiltily. Her mother would be disappointed at her poor table manners, but the old man just smiled his wide krogan grin. 

“Can't eat too much or your squishy stomach might burst, but you can have more later, kid.” He collected her plate as she sat back, realizing she was over-full. It must have been a small serving for a krogan.

An engine roared outside and Ryder sat up, anxious and on full alert. “Relax,” Drack admonished. “It's a Collective flitter.” He had sharp hearing as well as a good nose.

Sure enough, Keema marched through the doors minutes later, looking like a woman on a mission. Maybe she was; with Reyes down, she was the Charlatan. Whatever the case, she looked relieved to see Ryder up. 

“How are you?” her friend asked. Ryder teared up and felt stupid for doing so, but few people ever asked how _she_ was doing. Most of them just wanted her to fix or do something for them. 

“I'm okay,” she said. “Better now that I've eaten. Grandpa makes a mean breakfast.” She didn't miss Drack’s pleased grunt from the kitchen. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who appreciated a little acknowledgment.

Keema smiled, genuinely happy for her, and it made Ryder choke up all over again. “And Reyes?”

Ryder slumped, her good feeling gone. “Bad night. He had a fever dream and I couldn't calm him so Lissa had to sedate him, against Nakamoto’s prior recommendation. He tore his stitches open. She knows who I am now, by the way.”

Keema nodded slowly, taking on the look Reyes did when he was filing information away. “How long until he wakes up? I have the port and the Collective in hand, but nobody has taken the bait yet on his supposed murder. We need to know if he's safe,” she said.

Ryder shrugged. “Likely not today after those sedatives. There aren't any new clues?”

“We think the two dead ones were based out in the badlands from the high sulfur content of the dust in their clothes, but it's a big area to search. We're also scouring comm chatter, but without knowing who we're looking for it's taking longer than it should.” Keema scowled, clearly frustrated. 

Ryder sighed. “If Reyes isn't awake by tomorrow to shed some light on what happened, I'll head back into town and try scanning the crime scene and bodies. It'll blow your story, but we need more to work with.

They sat in silence, thinking it over while Drack divided up and boxed the leftovers in containers she recognized from the ship. A question was bothering her, but she was afraid it would offend her friend. She decided to err on the side of openness and ask anyway. “Keema...I don't want to offend, but why are you so loyal to Reyes? Anyone else would take the opportunity to climb the ranks.”

The angara’s eyes flashed with anger, quickly followed by tiredness. “Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind. He's a hard man to work for sometimes. But he is fighting for the good of all of us, and I swore to follow him to the end of the stars if he killed Sloane and returned the port to angaran control. I take my oaths seriously. He's fulfilled his end, and he's like family.” She looked piercingly at Ryder. “And now I'll turn it back to you since we're asking hard questions. Why betray the Initiative for a criminal?”

It was a good question and a fair one. Ryder had asked it off herself often, mostly in the weeks immediately following Sloane's assassination. Guilt used to eat at her, but it had faded as weeks became months and now, a year and a half later, it never bothered her at all. He was the one constant in her life, always there for her, always reliable. Unlike Tann and the Nexus leadership, he did what he did for his people and she admired him for his focus and care. 

He had more than a few rough edges, some of them deadly sharp, but he made her feel good, confident, powerful. They fit together so easily that it was hard to imagine life without him now. She loved him with a profundity that frightened her when she thought about it. He may have started out using her, and she him if she was honest with herself, but after Meridian, she was convinced that they'd found the kind of bond that lasting relationships were built on.

She told all that to Keema, pouring her heart out. By the end, she was crying again, head in her hands and shaking with sobs as she realized she may well find out what life without Reyes was like. Drack had stored the leftovers in the homestead’s small refrigeration unit before slipping out as quietly as a massive old krogan warrior could, generally uncomfortable with feelings. Keema wrapped an arm around her and let her cry, rocking them gently. 

“It'll be alright, _olaon_ ,” she promised. “We'll make them pay.”

###

Finding consciousness was painful. His entire left side was one big hurt, with tendrils radiating up into his shoulders and down his left leg. He felt weak, and the surface he was laying on felt soaked through.

If he was honest with himself, Reyes was surprised to be alive to feel so much discomfort. He had a vague memory of someone finding him in the warehouse but he'd been so far gone with fever already that it was all hazed over. Fever wouldn't fully account for the muzzy feeling of his thoughts right now though; that had to be drugs. Someone had drugged him? Where was he? 

Not having the answer sent adrenaline shooting through him, although it didn't help much in his weakened state. His eyes snapped open, taking in the small room, the medical equipment...and a woman laying with her back to him on his uninjured side. _Ryder_ was his first thought, because who else would take the liberty of sleeping next to him, but this woman had a mane of curly dark hair where Ryder's was always in a straight blue bob.

He was in no position to escape, but he needed to get to the bottom of this and figure out his situation. Maybe charm would work...if she was awake. He poked her with as much strength as he had, which wasn’t much, and she jumped, falling off the bed with a startled yelp that sounded heart-wrenchingly like Ryder's had the one time she'd fallen out of bed while wrestling with him.

The face that popped up a moment later was shaped like Ryder's, but her eyes were the deep purple of asari blood and her cheeks lacked Ryder's scars and tattoo. Still, the similarity was eerie, especially when she spoke.

“You're awake,” she breathed, eyes wide as if she couldn't believe it. “You're awake!” The strange woman jumped to her feet, moving exactly like Ryder did. _What the fuck is going on?_

She read the suspicious confusion in his gaze. “It's me, love. It's Ryder.” She reached for him and he twitched away, still not sure that he wasn't having another fever dream. The last one had been utterly terrifying, and Ryder had featured in it strongly. Hurt flashed in the woman's eyes and she swallowed visibly as she turned to call into the other room. “Lissa! Keema! He's awake, and it looks like his fever’s broken!” She stayed where she was, giving him space. Just like Ryder would know to do. Keema was here? Was this real, then?

An asari in a rumpled medic uniform darted in, startling him as she came around the cot and started checking his vitals. He only had eyes for the woman in the corner, following the medic’s instructions automatically. Everything about that woman screamed Ryder, so why did she look wrong?

An angara woman came in. Her, he recognized. “Keema,” he greeted her before returning his gaze to the other woman. Keema glanced between him and maybe-Ryder. “He doesn't recognize you,” she said carefully. The woman shook her head. “He does, I think, but he's not the most trusting person on a good day and I can't remember if I told him about the facial reconstruction suite on the Tempest. This probably seems a little impossible.”

_I'm sitting right here_ , was his first grouchy thought as they talked about him, followed by, _Facial reconstruction suite?_ He'd never heard of such a thing but immediately thought of a dozen uses for it. If it was real though…

“It is her, Reyes. It is good to see you survived your encounter,” SAM’s voice said from her omnitool. 

“Ryder?”

Her smile was like the sun coming out after a winter storm. He forced his mind into a metal twist, finding the love of his life in this stranger's face. He held a hand out to her, then snarled at the medic as she jabbed him with something. “Antibiotic, something that's not Oblivion this time,” she explained. Lissa, that was her name. Apparently satisfied with her prodding, Lissa started to leave. “No activity,” she warned sternly. “He's got a couple of weeks flat on his back ahead of him.”

_Meddling asari doctors, always telling me I can't get laid_ , he thought, slightly uncharitably given that _everything bloody hurt_. Ryder had reached his bedside and was looking to him for what he wanted. “Come here,” he whispered. Carefully, she slid down next to him. Keema nodded approvingly as he wrapped the arm on the side that hurt less around her. “You found me,” he said softly, and she nodded. He felt his shoulder dampen. She was crying silently, and he immediately felt awful. She must have been through a lot, and it was his fault she was hurting emotionally. Somehow that was worse than being shot.

“We found you,” she whispered back.

***

He'd fallen asleep again almost immediately, completely worn out by everything that had happened on top of having the sweat-soaked sheets changed from under him. Reyes wasn't sure how much later it was the next time he woke up - hours, by the change in sunlight - but Ryder was still curled against him. 

It was weird holding her when she didn't look like herself. He had to keep reminding himself that he wasn't cheating on her, that this _was_ her in a very convincing disguise. A role-play, of sorts. Reyes had never been tempted to seek other companionship since they'd started their relationship but the reflexive aversion he'd had to someone not Ryder in his bed intrigued him. He'd always been at least open to considering other opportunities before...but he'd never had a real relationship before, either. He'd meant it when he said she was it, and this only strengthened the feeling. It was both reassuring and frightening that he'd changed so much.

Shifting uncomfortably, he turned his mind to cataloging his injuries and information. He'd been shot in the left thigh, so he wouldn't be walking anywhere quickly. Shot in the gut as well, so he’d be following the doctor's orders about being bedridden for a few weeks. He’d had a fever, which meant infection, which explained the Oblivion the doctor mentioned, but not enough painkillers because everything hurt. Ryder can't have been happy about the Oblivion and the fact it had been needed suggested he was lucky to be alive with his wits intact.

He assumed the two who'd been following him were dead, but needed to confirm. That left at least one other player, and rage filled him at the idea of that spineless piece of shit putting him in this state. He'd have his revenge, and it would be served extra cold. Stroking Ryder's hair calmed him, and woke her.

“Hey,” she blinked up at him. “How are you feeling?” Reyes smiled down at her. “Lucky to be alive. A painkiller would be appreciated, though.”

She winced. “We’ll need to check that all the Oblivion worked its way out first. I was unconscious when they gave it to you so I don't know the details.”

Concern flooded him. “Were you hurt?”

“No. I...SAM had to knock me out.” She paused, looking sick and uncomfortable. “After you died,” she finished in a rush, eyes tearing.

_Shit_. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. He really was lucky to be alive. That story could wait; comforting her came first. “I'm still here thanks to you, _mi amor_ ,” he said, kissing her forehead.

Rumbling steps preceded Drack. The old krogan was a welcome sight; they had dirty work to do. “She saved you twice over,” he rumbled threateningly, having overheard the conversation. “That's her blood running in your veins now, boy, enough that Keema says she passed out. Take care not to spill it.” Reyes’ eyebrows shot up as Ryder squirmed and glared the old man, apparently not having intended to tell him. Drack ignored the look, completely impervious to her disapproval. “So who are we gonna go kill? You squishies take forever to heal and I'm bored.”

Keema popped in, attracted by the ruckus. “My question as well,” she said, fondling the hilt of her _firaan_. “We examined your clues, but only found two dead in an alley and you nearly there in a warehouse. Were there more?”

Cold hatred wormed through Reyes. “There is at least one more that I know of. William Spender.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm so this story kind of ran away with me and will be 1-2 chapters longer than I'd planned because I'm shit at planning, need to cover off some questions that came up while I was writing, and plot bunnies. Hope that's ok?
> 
> Also, I fucking hate Spender. Especially after reading Uprising.


	5. Final Bets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder realizes there are certain ramifications to Spender being involved and uses a loophole to mitigate a risk. She and Keema make a plan for capturing Spender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: this is _not_ where I had originally planned or imagined this story going. But then I realized there was a wide-open hole for Tann to take advantage of later that Ryder would not tolerate...and this happened.

The blood drained from Ryder's face and she felt lightheaded. Spender? “Oh, no. This is my fault,” she breathed. _I nearly lost you because of a choice I made._

The assembled group made varying noises of confusion or consternation. “Why would you think that?” Reyes asked. Keema wanted to know who William Spender was and Drack roared, “ _Now_ can we kill that worthless sack of lying shit?!”

Ryder couldn't look at Reyes as she answered his question first. “We caught Spender with a scrambler, working with a group of unaffiliated exiles to destabilize New Tuchanka and trying to frame Kesh for incompetence. It was his fault the krogan left the Nexus. He was working against them the entire time, the xenophobic fuckhead. Addison and Kandros gave me the option of throwing him in jail or exiling him. I told them to exile him.” 

She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, hiding her face. All of this pain, nearly losing the love of her life, because she hadn't had the courage to let Drack kill Spender outright when he'd wanted. “I'm sorry,” she said to her thighs. “I figured Aroane’s people would hunt him down. This is my fault. If I hadn't tried to keep my hands clean...if I'd done what Drack said…” she shuddered and held her breath, trying not to hyperventilate.

Silence was her only response as everyone considered what she'd said. Reyes’ hand landed on her lower back and rubbed gently. “Whatever he's up to, it isn't your fault. Spender was a twisted piece of shit during the uprising, and it seems like he's only gotten worse. Besides...I don’t think it's really me they're after.”

Ryder looked at him in horror. He'd nearly died and he wasn't even the main target?

He continued. “They wanted to take me alive. They know, or think they know, that I'm the Charlatan. If I didn't go with them, they were coming directly for you, _mi amor_. I don't know what their plan is, but with Spender involved it will be something political.” Ryder shuddered to think of what torture Reyes would have to be subjected to in order to give up so much as her favorite color. If they wanted him alive, that was likely where it would have ended up. Maybe it was better that he'd been shot.

“Political, but not a move by the Nexus?” Keema asked. Reyes and Ryder both shook their heads, and Ryder rubbed her face in tired annoyance. “He was formally convicted and exiled. He's no longer considered a member of the Initiative, any more than Reyes is.”

Keema cocked her head. “What were the charges?”

Ryder pursed her lips. “I don't recall exactly. SAM?”

“William Spender was convicted of one count each of obstruction of justice and treason, for his role in undermining and wrongfully accusing Nakmor Kesh of incompetence, lying to Nexus leadership during the investigation, colluding with exiles against the Nexus, and sharing confidential information and essential supplies with exiles.”

Blood drained from Ryder's face and she swayed as pieces started falling into place. “ _Amor_?” Reyes queried, alert as ever to her reactions even flat on his back and freshly recovered from fever. 

“I think I know what he's after,” she breathed. “Think about it. What have I been doing in the year since you removed Sloane?”

Keema caught on first. “Colluding with exiles and sharing confidential information,” she said darkly.

“Exactly. But he has no proof, and I’m still in power while he’s been exiled. SAM was in privacy mode in the beginning, and now everything is double-encrypted and locked to eidetic memory triggers, so there's no equivalent of the scrambler we found in his apartment - which I didn't have a warrant to enter, by the way. So taking Reyes would be like our capturing Aroane and compelling him to testify. If he could force a confession from the Charlatan, he'd have me for collusion at the very least from the source at the top, the only person who knows everything. The best anyone could get me for right now is an improper relationship. That's not illegal, just frowned upon, and there's too much else going on for anyone other than Scott to care. Especially now that the Collective is allied with the Nexus.” 

Everyone in the room swore as things started to click. “It wasn't enough to try discrediting Kesh, so he wants to try for the Pathfinder? Slimy little worm,” Drack growled. 

Reyes looked thoughtful. “How long ago was he exiled?”

“Around the same time you got rid of Sloane,” Ryder replied.

“So he's had a year and a half, roughly, to plan how he would take revenge on the Pathfinder and gather people to help him do it. We need more information about who might be working with him. Keema -”

The angara pointed a stern finger at him. “ _You_ are staying in bed. _Without_ a datapad or omnitool. You need to rest, Reyes. Ryder and I can handle this. We already know the other two were former Nexus security staff who were exiled for crimes and now that we know who else to look for, we can start putting the full picture together.”

Reyes scowled despite his flushed cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes, probably as much for being denied access to information as being told what to do. The man never reacted well to either, Ryder reflected, but Keema was right. She kissed his forehead and climbed out of bed. 

“So what's the plan?” Drack rumbled. Reyes arched his eyebrows, looking grouchy but interested to see what they'd come up with. Ryder already had an idea.

“If he couldn't get the Charlatan, he was going after the Pathfinder directly, right? So let's get the Pathfinder here, to start.” It was time to get her face back.

***

A few hours later Ryder was back at the homestead, having driven over to Ditaeon via Haarfel in the Nomad to meet the Tempest. When she’d re-emerged, heading into Kadara Port to be seen a little and hopefully encourage some chatter for Keema’s people to track, she was back to her old self.

After storming around like a woman ready to kill someone, scanning bloodstains and bodies, she'd headed back out. She’d taken a roundabout way that took twice as long but hopefully would prevent someone following her to Spirit’s Ledge. 

Reyes had visibly relaxed when she’d reappeared, reaching a hand out for her immediately. Whether it was because she was safely back or because she now looked like herself she wasn't sure, but she went to him. Her armor she set to one side with unaccustomed neatness before slipping into bed beside him. They didn't speak; they didn't need to. Being alive together was all that mattered. Eventually, Reyes dozed off.

Ryder slipped out, settling on the kitchenette’s bench alongside Keema to make more plans. They worked late into the night, trying to cover all the angles. Reports of chatter about the Pathfinder started coming in. Most of it was rubbish and gossip, but there was one intercepted transmission to the badlands not far outside of Kadara Port that was promising. Ryder finally declared a stop to plotting and went to grab some sleep while Collective agents investigated.

As she listened to Reyes breathing deeply beside her, a thought kept chasing itself around Ryder's mind. What would happen if someone _did_ try to bring her up on similar charges as those leveled against Spender? She could be compelled to testify against Reyes, or worse, sent to hunt him down. She'd decided long ago that she would leave the Initiative rather than be pitted against him - because fuck Tann, Addison, and the ship they flew in on - but there was still the matter of SAM. They already had a plan in place to transfer him to the “black box” Alec Ryder had initially developed the AI on and take him along should the need to leave the Initiative arise...but what could be done to prevent or reduce the likelihood of the need, to begin with?

Then there was the flip side to that: what if Reyes was captured and held for alleged crimes against the Initiative? She trusted that he wouldn't throw her under the proverbial bus - hell, the man would probably die before doing so - but what could be done to reduce his potential usefulness in a play like the one Spender was attempting? Tann hated the exiles and had demonstrated a willingness to follow Spender’s lead before; she had no doubt the salarian would pick up where the other man had left off and find some reason to arrest Reyes if he thought the smuggler could be used against her.

It was ironic that she'd started to worry more about legal action than the Collective’s widespread criminal activities, but she and Reyes had an agreement in place that had been working out well. He kept his income streams, whatever they were, and she looked the other way as long as he was quiet about it, kept his people under control, and continued working to improve the port. Where there were people there would be criminals, and the Charlatan kept things civilized so that she could focus on bigger issues, like the eventual return of the kett and her quiet search for the Benefactor. He also had legitimate businesses now, shipping ice from Voeld and a stake in a barite mining interest, so on the surface, he was a reformed man. 

Nexus law didn't extend to Kadara or the exiles in any case, but she suspected he had theft and smuggling rackets skimming supplies from the Initiative. Secretly, she approved. Tann and Addison had handled things badly on arrival and worse during the Uprising, and the exiles were still Initiative people in her mind. Reyes was correcting an injustice, and she didn't fault him for making a profit while he did so. But if any crimes against the Nexus did come to light, she had no doubt Tann would try to pursue a case against him.

Which meant against _them_ , because not only would she side with Reyes...she'd probably also be alongside him on the defendant's bench, either as an accessory or when she was held in contempt for refusing to testify. It might be questionable how far the Initiative's laws could be applied to the Charlatan, but they would certainly be applied to her.

Damn Spender. Gangs she could deal with. But the courts? There had to be a way to nullify his plan and any others like it that might come up. 

Then it hit her. She whispered a question to SAM, nodding at his response on their private channel. It was an extreme solution, but it could work. She didn't know how Reyes would feel about it, but given the declaration he'd made in the video he'd sent, she thought he'd go along with it. Especially if it was presented as a business deal that could help them both.

Nervous but hopeful, Ryder snuggled in closer to Reyes and fell asleep holding his hand.

###

The itch in his leg and the sense that he was about to fall woke Reyes. Faint pre-dawn light allowed him to see that he was indeed on the edge of the bed, Ryder having joined him sometime during the night and pressed herself as close to him as she could. She was usually a bed hog, but his being shot seemed to bring it out even more. Fortunately, they'd been sleeping together long enough that she didn't even wake up anymore when he nudged her off of him, only rolling to her other side with an unconscious grumble.

That nudge hurt more - physically - than he would have liked. His thigh was healing well, sped along with medigel, but the wound in his abdomen would take longer and hurt more because of its location and depth. It was frustrating, but it made him glad he'd started wearing light armor. He was fortunate that Ryder and Keema, his two pocket aces, were seeing him through this game, but it wasn't over yet. It made him anxious to be so...weak. He didn't like his odds if they were discovered.

With a sigh, he pushed the thought aside. It wouldn’t do to chase pointless thoughts around and he trusted the two women to resolve this; he was just accustomed to being in the thick of the intelligence gathering and planning, not recovering on the periphery. Gloom settled over him briefly before he set that aside as well. 

He turned his head to watch Ryder sleep. She was doing that uncomfortable-looking thing where her knees were pointed away, her shoulder blades were flat, and her head was angled toward him. He wasn't sure how anyone could sleep twisted like that, but her flexibility was impressive. 

Mmm...her flexibility. That thought chased away the last of his gloom as he started fantasizing about what he'd do with her once he was feeling better. Definitely something involving ropes and her lips around his cock. 

She must have felt the weight of his eyes on her because hers flashed open, thankfully back to their usual turquoise-hazel as they met his gaze through a fall of blue hair. She smirked at having caught him watching her, then inexplicably looked nervous. Reyes frowned. “What is it?” Had something happened while he'd slept?

Uncoiling herself and sitting up, she searched his face. All of her nervous tells were betraying her and adrenaline shot through him. “Ryder?” 

She swallowed. “I was thinking last night. About this plan of Spender's, and what would happen if someone like Tann was successful at it. Reyes, I could be compelled to testify against you. Even if you're not bound by Initiative law, I am as long as I'm Pathfinder. If you're smuggling Initiative goods, that could become a problem. I won't give up being Pathfinder, not after everything I've done, but...I can't ignore the fact that we could be used against each other.”

Reyes forced himself to take slow, even breaths even though his heart was racing. Where was she going with this? _Don't leave me, please don't leave me_ , he prayed desperately. When he’d dragged himself through the filth of Kadara Port’s sewers and lay dying in that dark, dusty warehouse, thoughts of her were the only thing that got him through. The Collective, the port, even Keema...nothing mattered but her. Seeing death approaching in the blood flowing through his fingers had forced him to prioritize real fast, and she was at the top of the list. But had she finally had enough? Was this the _big stuff_ that he should have shared before it all got so out of hand? 

That was the deal, after all; if he hid something big from her, she'd walk. _Please don't go, I'll be better, I'll never hide anything again_. He bit his tongue and forced himself to wait for her, trying to resist the fine trembling that was starting in his limbs at the idea of being alone again. It had never bothered him before; life was easier and safer that way, or so he'd thought. But then she’d roared into his life and changed everything.

She was biting her lip, the way she did when she was anxious about saying something, then took a deep breath. Her next words came out in a rush as he steeled himself for the blow of a broken heart. 

“SAM, summarize the Initiative guidelines on spousal privilege, please,” she whispered, her gaze locked to his like a rabbit spotting a hawk.

_Wait_ \- spousal _privilege? As in…_

He froze, breathless, unable to look away from her as SAM said, “Under Initiative guidelines applicable to both civil and criminal cases, spousal privilege permits a husband, wife, or equivalent partner to decline to testify, or be used as a witness against, their partner or partners. Both communications and observations are covered so long as they remain confidential between the spouses. The privilege is revoked in the event the marriage ends and cannot be used to cover actions or communications explicitly intended to carry out a crime. There is more, but it is not immediately relevant.”

Reyes said nothing, shocked into silence. She wasn't leaving him, she was... _proposing_ to him?

“It could be a business arrangement. I mean, I love you, but I don't want to rush into something, but this is the only way I could think of to -”

“Yes,” he breathed as relief and fear mixed in him, the word buried under her flustered babbling. 

“- make it so we couldn't legally be used against each other if Tann steals Spender’s idea and as long as we’re not like actually planning crimes together -”

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him. “I said yes, woman,” he growled, throat thick with emotion. She caught herself on one hand and stared at him, mouth open. Shifting his grip from her wrist to the back of her head, he ignored the flare of pain in his side as he pulled her down for a kiss. A startled noise jumped from her throat and was muffled against his lips.

She pulled back almost immediately. “Wait, really?” Her brows drew down and he knew she was about to become muley. “All of our previous agreements stand. _Including_ telling me about _big stuff_ like _this_. I'm mad at you for that, Reyes Vidal. You told SAM but not me?”

Reyes pulled her down and kissed her again, still too weak to keep her there if she didn't want to be but just wanting to be close to her. She allowed it, straddling him carefully. They were still making out like teenagers when Lissa knocked twice and came in.

“Oh!” She frowned as Ryder looked up guiltily and Reyes smugly. “I told you two, _no action_ until he's recovered! If you’ve torn those stitches again, Vidal, I swear to the goddess…” Muttering about bad patients and intractable Pathfinders, Lissa came around the cot to check on Reyes as Ryder scrambled off of him. He missed her weight immediately.

Keema stuck her head around the door a minute afterward. “Oh good, you're awake. Ryder, we need to -” She stopped, eyes narrowing. “Reyes, why do you look so smug?”

Reyes couldn't contain himself. “I'm getting married,” he announced proudly. Ryder flushed a deep red, and he laughed. She wasn't leaving him; she would be his forever.

Lissa’s eyebrows shot up and Keema’s jaw dropped. Nobody said anything. Then Keema squealed, Ryder flinched at the noise, Lissa sighed, and Reyes grinned from ear to ear. The noise drew Drack, who demanded to know what was going on and then growled that he needed to have a chat with this boy who thought he could just swoop in and marry his other granddaughter like that idiot Vorn had done with Kesh. Ryder beat a hasty retreat, Keema bounding out behind her, and Reyes tried to look properly contrite as the old krogan started laying into him while Lissa ducked her face to hide a smile.

Reyes didn't care. Ryder was _his_.

###

“ _What happened?!_ ” her friend demanded over the rumbling krogan voice behind the now-closed door. Ryder leaned against the nearest wall and scrubbed her face. “There's a bit of a loophole in Initiative law. Spouses can decline to testify against each other in court, which seemed like it might be a good idea if anyone else thought to use one of us as a witness against the other.”

“So he proposed?”

Ryder snorted. “No, I did, in the messiest way possible and as a business arrangement. He agreed before I managed to explain everything, although to be fair I was too nervous about how he'd react to say anything clearly.”

Keema laughed. “You're even better suited for him than I thought. Using the Initiative's laws against them to protect the both of you. I'm proud of you, although I definitely thought he'd be the one to make a move. He's absolutely crazy for you, Ryder.”

Shrugging, Ryder said, “I mean it's not like I planned this, and I wasn't one of those girls who dreamed of their wedding. Didn't ever want to get married after my father basically walked out on his family to play N7. But…” She shrugged again at Keema’s suddenly serious face. “This benefits both of us, especially if someone on the Nexus tries to repeat what I assume is Spender’s plan and use his testimony against me. Besides, I love Reyes. I want it to work.”

With another squeal of delight, Keema threw her arms around Ryder and pulled her into a hug. Uncomfortable as ever with physical contact that wasn't from Reyes, Ryder patted her back awkwardly. “We need to end Spender first. He’s no longer Nexus, and he's on Kadara, so we can do this the Collective’s way,” she said in a hard voice that made Keema draw back and look at her soberly. 

Whatever she saw in Ryder's face hardened her own. “Good. Let's wrap up those plans, then. I have news.”

***

The Collective had traced the suspicious comm transmission to its destination in the badlands. Scouts dispatched to find it reported activity in an old Outcast base, with five individuals - all human, all in worn Initiative uniforms with the badges ripped off - coming and going at regular intervals. None of them matched Spender’s description, but the man had always thought highly of himself and probably had a bolthole in Kadara Port, assuming this was the right bunch.

Ryder and Keema debated whether having Ryder turn up at the base would draw their foe out or send him deeper into hiding. In the end, they decided that capturing the base would provide opportunities to question people. The port was too densely populated to get a certain lock on the transmission’s origin, but Keema had people watching the area and they'd be ready if more information could be obtained to narrow the field. There was a chance that this was the wrong group, but the uniforms and chatter suggested otherwise. They finalized their plans and Keema sent orders while Ryder geared up.

Reyes watched her, his golden eyes hard and jaw clenched, slipping into the Charlatan. He wouldn't tell her not to go, but he clearly didn't want her to.

“Be careful,” he growled when she stepped to the cot to kiss him goodbye. He wound his fingers through her hair to hold her there and prolong the kiss. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and danced it with his before pulling back. “Can't promise I'll be careful, but I'll always try to come back,” she said fondly. Then she smirked. “ _You_ get better. Listen to Lissa. You know how horny I get when I come home from a mission.”

He tipped his head back and groaned. “Don't remind me when I'm not in a position to do anything about it.”

With a wink, she backed toward the door. “Consider it extra incentive.” When he snorted a laugh and shook his head, she took one last serious look at him, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that too much of a stretch?
> 
> The hunt for Spender is on...enter Madame Charlatan and Neith :)


	6. Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder hunts down Spender, unleashing her dark side. Reyes uses his own experience to bring her back to herself afterward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mild torture. Dark!Ryder and an appearance by the Charlatan. Mild smut.

The Nomad roared up to the former Outcast hideout with a lack of stealth that should have given a hint about the determination and confidence of its occupants. And yet these fuckers _still_ thought they could resist her. Ryder was _not_ impressed. Yes, they were likely all former security staff, Sloane’s hand-picked best for the Initiative if the profiles of the others held true for these, but Drack had had to physically stop her from tearing through them like a sneeze through a wet tissue. Keema had slapped her to bring her back to herself, and she'd snarled, enraged. These motherless egg suckers had plotted to capture or kill Reyes, to capture or kill _her_ , and she'd had the entirety of the drive over to nurse a simmering anger into a full-blown rage.

They'd attacked when her little tank had rocketed toward them, all five of them, the fools, so she'd felt fully justified in leaping out and throwing a singularity for crowd control while stripping the shields from those lucky enough to have them with energy drain. She was Neith, the terrifying one, and they would learn. It was probably a good thing Drack had trapped the wrist prepared to release her flamethrower and lifted her up, or they'd have no-one left to question.

The krogan had set her down when she'd relaxed after Keema’s second slap, and now she paced up and down a line of thoroughly cowed captives with fire in her step and violence in her eyes. Keema stood to the side twirling her bared _firaan_ , and Drack just smiled his toothy grin. 

A cool wildness had fallen over Ryder, a fey sort of fury that made her movements sharper and the world brighter. She felt her face stretch into a snarling mockery of good humor as she contemplated the fate of these imbeciles stupid enough to follow Spender. Was this what it was like for Reyes when he was the Charlatan? The rush of power and control was almost erotic. No wonder he sought refuge in another version of himself rather than deal with uncertainty. This felt invincible.

“I'll give each of you one chance to give me a truthful answer,” she growled, her voice low and rich with threat. “Then I shoot you in the head.”

One of the captives protested in an insultingly dismissive tone. “You can't do that. You're the Pathfinder.”

Without hesitation, Ryder drew her Equalizer and shot the man in the face. “Wrong answer,” she said lightly. “We're not in Initiative territory. We’re on Kadara, in unclaimed land. You attacked me and if I'm not mistaken, you dickheads are the ones responsible for killing Reyes Vidal. Am I wrong?” 

“Collective bitch, doing their dir-”

Another shot, another body dropping to leak red, red blood into the dirt. Keema shifted, but Drack growled an approving-sounding _huh_.

“Try again,” Ryder invited, spinning her gun on her finger in a motion she'd learned from Reyes. She'd probably hate herself later, but for now...for now there was only the hunt, and there were still two more prey animals for her to cull before she had to force something out of the last one.

The remaining three looked at her in horror. “Spender was right,” one of them muttered, and Ryder snapped the barrel of her pistol at her. The woman's flinch was delicious. 

“That's an interesting name. You'll live through this round,” Ryder told her before turning to the other two. “Do you two have anything equally as interesting to add?” she asked. They fell over themselves trying to answer while the woman who had spoken first slumped in relief.

 _Ah, Reyes, I understand you better now. Tough choices that feel necessary...and dangerously satisfying_ , she thought as they babbled. She cocked her head, studying them. 

“Why are you here?” Ryder interjected. Stories of exile tumbled from them. Crimes they felt were justified, a promise from Spender that Reyes Vidal was the key to bringing her down, getting them all back onto the Nexus and out of the hell that was exile. _Weak_ , Ryder thought. She glanced at Keema, an eyebrow cocked. The angaran woman tipped her head sideways slightly. They needed more. Time to roll the dice.

“Enough,” Ryder snapped. “I keep hearing the name ‘Spender’. The first one who connects a call to him lives. The others…” she trailed off, smiling ruthlessly and spinning her pistol again.

One of them refused, and she shot him pitilessly. “Who will it be?” she mused aloud, tapping her chin thoughtfully as the two remaining captives pulled up their omnitools, fingers racing. 

It was the woman who’d mentioned Spender first that got through to him.

“What?” he demanded imperiously. Oooh, that was him, the bastard. Unreasonably superior, haughty...hateful. Ryder felt her blood start to boil. This was the sack of shit who had shot Reyes, who'd nearly killed the only man she’d ever loved.

Drack’s hand landed heavily on her shoulder, keeping her grounded even as she bared her teeth in a savage snarl. _That motherfucker will die. I'll cripple him, and give him to Reyes to play with when he's better_ , she resolved. She laughed silently at the thought; she'd allowed Spender’s people to think Reyes was dead and that she was the only monster under the bed, but Reyes had physically dealt out more pain than she could even think up. She'd be doing these two a small mercy by killing them both.

“I-it's the P-pathfinder,” the woman stuttered, looking encouraged at Ryder's approving nod. “She's here, and she’s shot Jenks, Korhonen, and Liu. It's just me and Fraser left. Orders?”

“ _Damn_ that cunt!” Spender swore viciously. “We lost Vidal, so we need her alive.”

Ryder caught Keema's nod out of the corner of her eye. She was looking at her communicator, which meant the Collective agents in Spender’s vicinity had triangulated his position. Ryder shot the man, Fraser, and the woman currently speaking to Spender crouched low to the ground. 

“ _Fuck_ , man, she's just killed Fraser, what do I -”

Her eyes filled with betrayal as Ryder leveled her pistol at her face, but it didn't stop Ryder from shooting her. She crouched and peeled off the woman’s omnitool, correctly assuming that because it was active, it wouldn't explode like the other two had. Another thing to note for her own upgrade.

“Hello, Spender,” she purred. 

“Ryder!” 

A chuckle, so rich and throaty as to be sexual but sharp with danger, poured from Ryder’s throat. “Surprise. You killed my boyfriend. We need to talk about that.”

Predictably for the slimy little shit, he became ingratiating. “Pathfinder! He was a distraction. I only sought to remove an undesirable from the path of your noble efforts to bring peace and prosperity to -”

Rage washed over her again. “ _Shut up_. You only sought to play yet another political game. But you picked the wrong bitch to play with.” She ended the call. Keema was ordering in a cleanup crew. “These ones and all record of them in port will disappear,” she promised. “It'll be like they were never here.”

Ryder nodded and turned toward the Nomad, holding tightly to the coldness of her fury. She had at least one more person to punish.

***

The Collective had captured Spender and flown him out to the base in Draullir. Ryder had spoken out against the beatings Collective agents were handing out here before, but she held her tongue now, wrapped in a cool distance. Squatting outside the cell beside Keema, she watched coldly as Drack casually slapped Spender around, each light blow sending the man sprawling. He'd gone from insisting on his intention only to serve to profanity-laced defiance, to now huddling in a ball that Drack’s massive foot sent tumbling. 

“Having fun yet?” she called out to the krogan. His hearty chuckles suggested yes. She hated to ruin his amusement, but she had questions for the spineless wonder.

Drack stepped back when she entered the cell and Spender threw himself on the ground in front of her, begging for protection from the “out of control beast”. Ryder kicked him full in the face, sending him sprawling and squealing with a broken nose. Keema said her name in an admonishing tone, which she ignored. Drack grunted, sounding surprised, and leaned against the wall as Ryder crouched beside Spender. 

The sorry excuse of a man flinched away. “Look at me,” she demanded softly, repeating it when he didn't. Slowly he did, hatred shining in his eyes, and spat in her face. Her only reaction was to wipe it off and slap him with the hand covered in his spittle, drawing a nasly scream as his broken nose was jarred. A corner of her mind was shouting at her and she felt a little sick as she wiped her bloody hand on her armor. This wasn't her, this wasn’t how she did things. But he'd shot Reyes and she would personally find out why. She buried the feeling of disgust under rage and her need to know.

“Why did you kill Reyes Vidal?” she gritted out. 

Spender snarled. “I won't tell you anything, you traitorous bitch. You sent me into exile but _you're_ the one selling secrets to criminals!”

Drawing her pistol, Ryder placed the barrel of it on his left thigh just above the knee. “Why Vidal?” she repeated. Spender’s eyes grew wild. “You wouldn't,” he insisted. 

She sighed. “You know, I'm getting real tired of hearing about what I can't or wouldn't do here on Kadara.” His screams echoed in the small cavern as she pulled the trigger. “You've got a lot of expendable parts, Spender, and I have nothing better to do today. So. One more time. Why kill Vidal?”

“I didn't mean to!” he howled. A pack of medigel and bandages landed next to her and Ryder looked up to see Keema, still outside. “If he bleeds to death, you won't get all your answers,” she said pointedly. _And Reyes won't get to take his turn later_. With another sigh, Ryder set about bandaging Spender’s leg. The Equalizer used energy instead of bullets so the wound was slightly cauterized on the edges, but still bleeding.

“You were saying?” she reminded him as she pulled the bandage tight, gaining another scream. When he didn't answer, she pointed the gun at his other leg.

“No! Please, I didn't mean to kill him! I wanted him alive.”

“Why?”

The hatred in Spender’s pained glare increased. “Because I will not live like an animal! If I can give Tann proof that you're a traitor, he might let me rejoin the Initiative. Vidal is the Charlatan, he must be. He could testify. I _have_ to get back on the Nexus.” His raging turned to sniveling subservience. “I only want to serve.”

 _Serve yourself, you mean. Fuck, this guy is completely unbalanced_. She was pleased that she had guessed his plan correctly but still dismayed. Aloud, she asked, “Tann agreed to that?”

“No,” Spender admitted sullenly when she ground the barrel of the Equalizer into his leg. “He won't even take my calls.”

That was a relief; for a moment she'd thought Tann was behind this and had mentally moved up her wedding date. “Why would you think Vidal was the Charlatan?”

Spender rolled his eyes. “As if you don’t know.” Ryder raised her eyebrows, knowing that the vile man would enjoy showing off his cleverness despite his situation. He scoffed. “Who else could it be? Not that angara bitch everyone wants to think it is. From what I've heard the Charlatan only appeared after the exiles arrived and Sloane kicked the kett out. The angara are too weak.” He sneered on Sloane’s name; no love lost there. “So, an exile. Which exile benefited the most from Sloane’s death? Reyes Vidal, the man who seems to know everyone but carefully keeps up the appearance of holding himself apart while quietly sticking his fingers in every pie. The man who attracted the eye of the Pathfinder and then happened to rank highly enough in the Collective to lead the delegation that negotiated that disaster of a ‘trade deal’.” Ryder rolled her eyes at the air quotes he put around “trade deal.” Doubtless, he thought he could do better.

She pretended to think over what he’d said. “So you...what, hid out in a manky warehouse for a year and a bit trying to come up with this grand scheme to take me down?” she mocked. 

He sneered at her, the blood still trickling from his nose staining his teeth red. “It’s almost like you wanted to get caught after Meridian. Openly consorting with that scum? You’re even stupider than I thought.” 

Something came over her then, a madness that made her smile savagely. “Which finger did you shoot him with? This one?” she asked, grabbing his right hand and splaying it out flat on the ground. 

“What? No!” 

His protests died in screaming as she shot that index finger off and stood. “I got what I wanted,” she said, waving Drack out after her.

“We’re not going to kill him?” the krogan asked incredulously. Ryder grinned. “You can arm wrestle Reyes for the privilege, okay? All I know is that you two have a better claim to the kill than I.”

Spender’s pained groans paused as he panted out, “B-but you said he was dead!”

She aimed her Equalizer through the bars and purred, “Reyes Vidal sends his regards.” Tracking him as he tried to scramble away was easy; he couldn’t move very quickly with a bum leg. She tagged him in the shoulder and arm with two quick shots intended to hurt and maim, not kill. Nausea roiled in her belly at her own casual cruelty, but she pushed it aside in favor of the euphoria rising in the back of her mind. His life belonged to _her_ , and she would gift it to her love.

“You should put some medigel on that,” she said sweetly, gesturing toward the half-spent pouch. Then she turned on her heel and stalked out. 

Reyes was waiting for her, and it had been too long since they'd done something fun.

###

The distinctive roar of the Nomad’s engine alerted Reyes to Ryder’s return. She’d radioed ahead to tell him they’d been successful, but her voice had been flat, distant, the way Keema had once told him his was when he was the Charlatan. That didn’t bode well. She wasn’t squeamish, but she usually avoided doing anything that would make her have to find a mental distance. That she seemed to have discovered her own inner Charlatan suggested she’d be in an interesting frame of mind.

When she appeared in the doorway, she was in exactly the state Reyes had feared. Ryder’s bright turquoise eyes were hard and merciless as they fell on him. Lust still burned in their depths, the way it always did when she got back from a mission, but with an edge that had never been there before. Her armor, usually a matte teal and grey, was liberally spattered with dried blood. 

She unclipped pieces of armor and breathed slowly as she eyed him but held herself back. He knew it wasn't really him she saw, but more prey. An opportunity to express the new feeling of power she'd discovered. She knew it was wrong, or she wouldn’t still be standing there, twitching and shuddering as she fought herself, but she was losing the battle.

He knew because he'd been there, the first time he'd fully embraced the part of him that would become the Charlatan rather than just using it to distance himself. That she was still in control of herself physically said that she was doing better than he had; hopefully, that would save her. 

What she needed now was an outlet to release the energy and permission to do so, or she would utterly hate herself later. He shifted himself to sit up on the cot, ignoring the twinge of pain in his side. As he settled again, he noted her hard swallow and the way she closed her eyes, turning her head away and panting. He'd have to guide her through this, as Ilara had guided him on Omega. 

“Come here, Ryder,” he ordered in a low voice. She shuddered again, trying to resist, even going so far as to take a step back. Much stronger than he had been. Keema and Drack were behind her, hesitating, but he ignored them and repeated the command, slipping into the Charlatan and layering force into his tone. Her chin lifted and her nostrils flared, her eyes chips of stone as she tried to defy him. Fuck, she was strong. But she was inexperienced in her darkness still, and she wanted him as much as she always did. He desired her too, the want growing as she continued to resist him - much as it always did.

“Ryder. Come. Here,” he said in the Charlatan's sternest tones. She finally broke, growling as she dropped the last pieces of armor to the floor and stepped to the bed, shutting the door behind her. Then she was on him, devouring his mouth, almost before he could register it. His arms went around her, trapping her, as he forced his tongue into her mouth to let her know he wanted this.

A commotion in the other room preceded Lissa as she opened the door and started to interrupt, but Ryder snapped her head up and snarled, “Get. Out,” in a hard voice that would tolerate no argument. Reyes nodded once, his eyes as hard as her voice had been, and the asari backed up, looking nervous. Keema took her arm as the door slid shut and Reyes turned his attention back to the Pathfinder. 

Grasping a handful of her hair, he mustered enough strength to pull her head back and catch her attention. “Suck my cock,” he ordered. Whatever her mindset, she was submissive where sex was concerned. If she’d used sex to break him out of the loop he’d been stuck in a couple of months ago, he’d try it with her now. He’d have preferred her to sit on his face, but he wasn’t quite up to the level of effort that would require on his part yet, not to do it properly. 

She fought his grip on her for longer than she usually would before sliding down his body, careful of his healing wounds, and wrapped her lips around his length. He shuddered as she pulled on him powerfully to get him fully hard, turning all of her energy and aggression into serving him. Just as he had done, so many years ago, on Omega.

Between the intensity of her attentions and the amount of time it had been since he'd last enjoyed her, Reyes came within minutes. He held her down, forcing her to swallow all of his release, before letting her up. As she caught her breath, head hanging, he gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. She was calmer, and the hardness of her features had cracked to show uncertainty. “Whatever you did, it’s in the past now. Let it go.” 

She fought him, avoiding his eyes, and he gripped with all the strength he had left, shaking her to gain her attention again. When she finally met his gaze, he said, with as much gentleness as the Charlatan could find, “Whatever you did, _I still love you_.”

That was what completely broke her and she sagged, a sob tearing itself from her throat. Carefully, mindful of his injuries, he turned sideways and guided her to lay next to him. She clung to him, shaking and jerking as she tried to be strong and keep the tears of self-loathing in. 

“Let it out,” he ordered harshly, and after a moment of hesitation she did, massive wracking sobs shaking her as she clung to him. He remembered this stage, too. The guilt, the self-hatred as memories of things a person thought they'd never do assailed them. He _hadn’t_ let it out, and that had been a mistake. Hopefully, he could keep her from falling into a bottle, as he had done.

A few quick knocks sounded at the door. When he didn't answer, they were repeated more urgently.

“What,” he barked sharply, the physical strain of holding her making him short-tempered. He was sure that if he hadn't been wrapped in the Charlatan he'd be hurting emotionally as well; it was difficult to distance himself as it was. He'd never seen her like this and had only experienced it once before, when she’d called him in drugged tears after the Archon had stolen SAM from her.

The door slid open and Keema froze when she saw Ryder gasping her soul out in pieces in his arms, her face buried in his chest. “Is she -”

“She's turning into me. We'll discuss this later,” he snapped. Looking stricken, Keema nodded and shut the door again.

Reyes tightened his arms around his fiancée as much as he physically could and kissed the top of her head. “ _Perdóname, mi reina_ ,” he whispered, wishing he could have protected her more. But he'd made his bed, and now she was laying in it alongside him. He rarely regretted his decisions but was certainly doing so now, wishing that he’d involved her in this game from the start rather than trying to handle it on his own. He might not have been shot, and she might not have unleashed her dark side. He'd never wanted this for Ryder, content to be the one who did the dark, dirty things while she led with her light.

Slowly she calmed, if only because she was exhausted, and released him as she turned onto her back. He stroked her hair, gently guiding strands stuck to tear tracks away from her face. Her eyes were wide, and she was trembling.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked quietly. She stared at the ceiling for long minutes, and he didn't push.

When she did speak, her voice was low and rough. Distant. “First, I shot five people in cold blood. Captives, on their knees. Two of them simply because they refused to give me the answer I wanted, two more to scare the rest, and the last so that there wouldn't be any loose ends. Bang. Just like that. Because they'd been involved in hurting you, and I wanted them to pay.” Her lip curled into a snarl as the scene undoubtedly replayed itself behind her eyes. “They called Spender trying to save their lives. We tracked him down. And I hurt him. A lot. On purpose, when he couldn’t fight back.” Her eyes blazed when she looked at him. “He's still alive, for now. I thought you might want your own revenge.”

She was right, and he leaned over to kiss her. There was a special place in hell for William Spender, and it was in the caves of Draullir.

Ryder said nothing more, taking a deep breath and letting it shudder out. He cuddled up next to her, tucking her head under his chin and laying his arm across her chest. “Try to sleep, _mi reina_. It’s all over now, and we’re both safe.” He started humming a song that his sister used to sing when he needed comforting and eventually, she fell into an exhausted, fitful sleep. 

He waited to be sure she was fully unconscious before asking SAM to alert him if she woke up or started having nightmares. Then he slowly, painfully, hauled himself out of the cot and shuffled to the door, using the wall to steady himself. 

Keema, Drack, and Lissa all looked up from the kitchenette’s table in shock when they saw him. He held a finger to his lips for silence as Lissa scowled and started to open her mouth. Drack got up to help him the rest of the way to the bench, which he promptly collapsed onto, exhausted by the short walk.

“You shouldn’t be up yet!” the medic hissed. “And what the hell were you thinking, letting her on you like that? Your condition aside, her mental state -”

“Is one I know how to deal with,” the Charlatan snapped, cutting her off. “Excuse us, please, Lissa. I need to find out _exactly_ what happened to turn the Pathfinder into the early version of me.”

The asari left the table in a huff, stepping out into the night. When the door shut behind her, he turned cold eyes to Keema. “Report.”

When she finished detailing the events, the Charlatan pinched the bridge of his nose. _Fuck_. She'd stoked her rage at his being targeted and gone on a bloody rampage, wanting to avenge him, no doubt, but mentally and emotionally unprepared for the fallout. As tough and experienced as she was, the Pathfinder was an explorer first and a soldier second, not a criminal or a murderer. She didn't have the temperament for the latter roles, although Mantis’ plot against him had laid the groundwork to shape her in that direction a few months ago and today had started her on the path.

A year ago he'd have considered encouraging it and gaining a Pathfinder in the employ of the Collective, to seek out new worlds and opportunities to claim for his own interests and objectives. The idea still tempted the darkest side of him. But to use her like that would shatter the person she was, the woman he'd come to love so deeply. The woman he was going to marry.

He had to do better by her.

“This can’t happen again,” he said coldly. “We don't need another me. Stars help you all if there are two of us and neither is inclined to talk the other down.” _Or fuck the other down, rather, we've always been good at communicating with sex._ He was honest with himself, always, and he knew the disaster that would unfold if both of them were caught in a Charlatan loop, driving each other to greater depths of darkness as they sought dominion over...everything. Ryder was a balancing influence on him, one that he wasn’t ashamed to admit was needed. He’d learned to be the Charlatan on Omega, where there were no rules, no brakes, and no consequences if you held enough power and didn’t fuck with Aria. That’s not what he wanted for the Collective, for Heleus. He’d come here to be someone, but if he wasn’t a better someone than he’d been before he may as well have stayed on Omega.

Drack grunted, nodding thoughtfully, but Keema lost her temper. “Does that mean you're going to tell us what's going on from the start next time?” she snapped. He fixed her with a hard stare until she looked away sullenly.

“Yes,” he conceded. “This is my fault as much as anyone else’s.” He met her eyes, this time without challenging her. “I’m...sorry you were put in this position. It shouldn’t have happened.”

Keema jerked in surprise, and his glare dared her to comment on the fact that he’d apologized - a thing the Charlatan tended not to do. He used people and expected them to do as he said, but he was going to need to be better if he was going to steer Ryder away from his path.

“Wiser than you look,” Drack said, slapping him on the shoulder hard enough to make him wince. “You _might_ be worthy of marrying her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a bit rough >_<
> 
> But now the wedding!


	7. Winner Takes All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding, the party, and the last of Spender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut x3 scenes. And a dash of implied torture.

**Three months later…**

Reyes fidgeted as Kian adjusted his formal jacket. “Hold still, or I'll stick you with this,” his best man threatened, brandishing the pin he was about to use to affix the boutonniere to Reyes’ lapel. The bartender had a small sadistic streak, so Reyes settled momentarily but couldn’t help shifting his feet. He was getting _married_. To someone _important_. Who _loved_ him, stood by him even when he was being an absolute bastard, and inspired him to grow. He smirked inwardly. It didn’t hurt that she was intelligent, capable, dangerous, and gorgeous as hell. She had her flaws, but then, so did he.

“There,” Kian said, clapping his shoulders. “Look at you. A handsome enough bastard, when you bother to clean up. You ready, mate?”

Taking a deep breath, Reyes asked himself the same question. Ryder may have made the proposal as a business arrangement to reduce the likelihood of their being used against each other in any legal proceedings, but he wanted to do right by her. She had flat-out refused a big, formal wedding, saying she hadn't ever planned to get married anyway and didn't intend to wrap her mind around planning something now, but had compromised with him on something smaller. Just the two of them and a few witnesses each, standing up in front of Mayor Tate and Keema in her official role as Administrator of Kadara Port, in Ditaeon. He'd have preferred another location, but it had to be registered somewhere under Initiative jurisdiction in order for the marriage to be valid in the Initiative, which was the whole point. He was the king of Kadara; it was her side they were worried about.

The last few months had been challenging, a transitional period between his old life and what he wanted going forward. He'd spent his recovery working to build up his legitimate businesses - with a few less-than-legal tactics, admittedly - and taking care of Ryder, who’d been having more nightmares than usual and occasionally stared off into space with an odd look on her face. Whenever it happened, he gave her space until she found her way back to herself and then held her for as long as she needed to cling to him.

He'd been in Andromeda nearly three years, but it had taken Ryder stampeding headfirst into the criminal side of his work for him to realize that it was time to start doing better, for both of them. Reyes was ashamed of himself for the lateness of that realization, and for the damage it had done her, but he couldn't change the past. He could only try to improve their future, and the best way to apologize was with actions. The past would always be there, a lurking danger should anyone go hunting for clues, but it was time to stop digging his own hole. 

Was he ready? “Yes,” he replied to Kian, the tight feeling in his stomach settling. All that was really changing was a line of data in his file. He had always planned to stick by Laz’s side, and if his motivations had changed, that was for the better, too.

Kian narrowed his eyes and peered at Reyes, searching his face before nodding and planting a kiss on his cheek. “For luck,” his friend said, and Reyes grinned. 

“Better lucky than good, right?” As the words left his mouth, Reyes realized how true they were. It was pure luck that Evfra had tapped him for the mission to make contact with the Pathfinder, that she’d fallen head over heels in love with him and hadn’t left him or killed him on discovering his identity as the Charlatan. That she had the patience and resilience to put up with him and grow with him through everything that had come after. 

Kian smiled cheekily, seeming to read his mind. “Right - and you’re luckier than most, mate. Now let’s go catch that Pathfinder before she remembers her good sense.”

When Ryder entered the mayor’s office, she was wearing a slinky blue dress that perfectly matched her hair. Shimmery turquoise threads shot through it, picking up the light when she moved. It was strapless, clinging to her chest by some magic and hugging her waist and hips before draping loosely to the floor. A slit running up her right thigh to her hip made some interesting possibilities come to mind. He’d never seen it, and she was breathtaking. His jaw dropped and his trousers grew a little tighter as he slowly regarded her from head to toe; her smirk said that was the desired effect. Tate had to clear his throat to get Reyes’ attention for the “I do” because she had so captivated him. 

Drack had broken ranks and stood on Reyes’ side along with Kian. Ryder had Vetra, Cora, and Scott on her side. She’d confided privately that she only really wanted Keema, Vetra, and Drack there, but Cora was still technically her second for Pathfinder business and would be a useful witness should the Initiative call anything into question. Scott was family, and as often as the Ryder twins were at each others’ throats, they were both in agreement on what family meant: being there for each other when it was important. Reyes was just surprised that Scott had shaken his hand and congratulated him without a hint of irony.

The ceremony itself finished quickly. Much of it passed in a blur, and the only part he remembered with any clarity later was sweeping her into a dip for the kiss. She broke it with joyous laughter, tipping her head back in a show of complete trust that he’d hold her before looking up at him with adoration in her eyes, a look he’d never get tired of. He lifted her and rested his head on hers, encircling her in his embrace. “I will love you, always,” he swore as most of the assembled _awwww_ ed. She kissed him again and said the same. They stood like that a moment longer before he made her shriek by lifting her, throwing her over his shoulder, and marching out as she squealed in delight, slapping at his back and hollering for him to put her down _this instant_. He ignored her threats; her breathless laughter said they were more for the sake of it rather than seriousness. It was time to party.

***

They’d rented out the entirety of Tartarus. Between the two of them, they had a lot of important friends and the security risk would have been astronomical had their guests not included a number of Nakmor krogan, lured in by Drack with promises of easy pay, ryncol, and contacts for future protection work. A few people chose to remember the krogan tearing through Callix’ people during the Uprising, muttering darkly, but it only took one fairly restrained headbutt to dissuade the rest. Ryder rolled her eyes at the fools from where she and Reyes were greeting people in front of his private room but quickly turned her attention back to charming their guests with her new look. 

Reyes secretly wondered if he could get her to dress up like this more often as he snuck yet another peek down the front of her dress. She was always attractive in a powerful sort of way, but he'd never imagined she could be elegant. And that slit...he allowed his hand to wander to her thigh, slipping under the flap of fabric, and she slapped him away without breaking her conversation with Evfra. He grinned cheekily when the Resistance leader harrumphed sternly, which only amused Reyes more when he remembered fucking Ryder in the guest bed reserved for Evfra on Voeld.

‘Congratulations,” Evfra said stiffly when he turned to Reyes. 

“Couldn't have done it without you,” Reyes laughed. With a long-suffering sigh, the angara made his way over to a cluster of people that included Keema. 

Finally, all the guests were welcomed and thanked for their attendance. Reyes drew Ryder down to the lower level as strains of jazz began to play. Ryder threw her head back and laughed, recognizing the song they had first danced to after she'd discovered he was the Charlatan. As he pulled her to him, she rested her head on his shoulder and said, “You really are a romantic under all that _other_ business, aren't you.” 

He kissed her cheek and led her into the dance, just as he had before. “I might be,” he admitted, a little embarrassed. “Just don't tell anyone. It would ruin my image.” She snorted a laugh and swayed along with him until the song ended.

It was the last civilized moment of the night. 

As soon as their first dance was over, Kian shouted, “And now let's see how long it takes Vidal to get her out of that dress!” as he changed over to the club's usual music. Ryder took it in good humor, hollering back, “Who said he had to get me out of it?” cocking her hip to show off the high slit to excellent effect. Reyes’ trousers tightened, as much from her unusual exhibitionism as from the view, and he slipped his arms around her from behind as the crowd whistled and laughed. “I am fucking you in this club, in that dress, before this party ends,” he growled into her ear. She ground her ass into his hips and tilted her head to kiss him. “You'd better,” she purred. He had to restrain himself from taking her right then and there.

Kian’s next move was to send out his dancers armed with booze bandoliers, and everything escalated from there. When they came around, Ryder downed two shots in quick succession and joined Peebee, Vetra, Keema, and Gil in some rather enthusiastic dancing. Reyes was content to watch as he took advantage of the presence of several high-ranking Resistance leaders and one of Nakmor Morda’s lieutenants to renew connections and make some quiet deals. 

As the evening drew on and the alcohol flowed, Reyes made careful notes about who was associating with whom as he nursed his whiskey. There was nothing like a wedding to make people forget themselves, and he was still an information broker alongside his other businesses. His intelligence gathering was cut short when a sauced Ryder plopped astride his lap and kissed him passionately. Her mouth tasted of whiskey and ryncol, the latter telling him SAM was still managing her blood alcohol content to some extent or she'd be on the floor instead of a little drunk and extra horny. 

“I love you,” she declared, fingers busy at his belt. “Can we fuck now?”

He trapped her hands and pulled them around behind her. He certainly wouldn't mind fucking her where everyone could see - the idea turned him on considerably - but she'd be mortified later. The little minx chuckled throatily, enjoying his taking control, and rolled her hips against his hardening cock. Over her shoulder, he saw Kian take note of the situation and pull a dancer aside, pointing to a stage on the opposite side of the bar. Within a minute an asari, a turian female, and a human male were dancing with unrestrained seductiveness, drawing the full attention of the crowd. _Hmm...maybe a little indulgence_. They were in a more secluded corner of the club, and their guests were now distracted or busy taking advantage of the open bar.

Shifting his grip to hold both her wrists in one hand, he made use of that slit in her dress to stealthily slide the other hand up her thigh. She gasped, and he bit her lower lip in warning. “Not a sound, not a move, or I stop. It has to look like we're just kissing. Understood?” She whimpered and nodded, breath coming in small pants.

Slowly, he pushed her panties to the side and slipped two fingers along her labia. She was sopping wet, as he'd expected from her enthusiasm. Her low moan as he pushed into her made him want to bend her over the table, but there would be time for that later. For now, there was the heat at her core and that little bundle of nerves right...there. The strangled noise she made when he stroked told him he'd found the spot and she kissed him, hard. Reyes drank in her quiet sobs of pleasure as he quickened the flicking of his fingers against the spot inside her, adding the movement of his thumb against her clit. Her hands broke free of his grasp and buried themselves in his hair as she seemingly tried to pour herself down his throat. He let them go, taking hold of the back of her neck. “Be still,” he breathed against her lips. She whimpered but obeyed, muscles twitching with the effort.

When Ryder started to come he gripped her hair and pressed her face to his shoulder, grunting as she bit him in an effort not to cry out. He kept up the movements of his fingers until she slumped against him. After quickly checking to be sure nobody was looking, he sucked her juices off of his fingers. She tasted like life itself, salt and musk and woman.

When she sat up her pupils were wide and her lips parted. He rested his hand on her left shoulder, absently rubbing the scar where Mantis had shot her in the chest. He'd almost lost her, but here she was - his wife.

“ _Te amo_ ,” he blurted, the words bursting from him. It was easier to say in Spanish, he never knew why, but she knew what he meant. Her smile could have outshone the sun. “I love you, too,” she replied, kissing him again. When she pulled back, she was smirking. “Now what about that promise you made me at the beginning of the night?”

He smirked. “Meet me upstairs. I'll be there in a minute.” She jumped up and dashed away, her complete lack of subtlety drawing a few knowing laughs when she was noticed. He watched her go as he sidled up to the bar. “I've said it before, but you're a king among men, Kian.” 

The bartender snorted. “What can I say, I'm a bloody romantic. Who am I to stop the Pathfinder from subtly getting fingerbanged in the back of my bar? Maybe I'll get some good karma coming my way,” he said in a low voice. Reyes didn't miss the way he was eyeing Gil and slapped his friend on the shoulder. “I wish you the best of luck. I'm going to go test how accessible that slit makes that dress,” he smirked. Kian laughed as Reyes strode away.

Ryder was waiting for him when he walked in, panties discarded at the door, sitting wantonly on the table with one foot up and legs spread wide, slowly rubbing herself. “Hello to you, too,” he purred, delighted by the sight. Stripping his jacket and shirt off, he dropped them carelessly to the floor. She smirked as he reached her in a few long strides and bent to kiss the apex of her thighs. As he swirled his tongue around her clit and then flicked it with long strokes, she clenched a fistful of his hair and moaned encouragingly. He opened his trousers to free his erection as he worked her, stroking himself to the same tempo he was licking her. 

When she arched back in the beginnings of her climax, he pulled her thighs forward and pressed her to lie flat. The dress fell away, exactly as he'd imagined it would, and he impaled her with a single long stroke that made her scream his name. Reyes didn't bother trying to quiet her this time; it was their wedding night, after all. He wanted to hear every noise he could draw out of her, all the variations in the way his name fell from her lips in gasps, cries, and moans. She was his, and he was hers, and he was going to fuck her so hard that she wasn't likely to forget it.

He bent her in half, pressing her thighs into her flanks as he bent over her to mark her neck. She arched against him, nails dragging down his back to mark him in turn. He growled at the pain and gave her an extra deep thrust, swiveling his hips as she bucked beneath him. She was already close to her orgasm after his oral ministrations, but the suddenness with which she clenched around him caught him by surprise and triggered his own release. It was faster than he would have liked, but he supposed they had the rest of their lives to fuck in a thousand different ways.

She was trembling when she finally caught her breath, the way she did when she was emotionally overwhelmed, so he gently pulled away and scooped up his jacket before gathering her into his arms. Sitting on the couch, he settled her against him, careful to keep her dress to the side, and tucked the jacket under her for the inevitable mess. She clung to him, burying her face in his chest with her arms gripped tightly around his neck.

“I've got you, _mi amor_ ,” he murmured. Her breath hitched in a sigh, and she leaned back to skim the scar on the left side of his abdomen with her thumb, much as he'd done with hers earlier. 

“Don't do this again, okay?” she whispered. He kissed her chest over the spiderweb scar from Mantis’ sniper bullet. “I think I have a few more to go before I catch up with you.” Her eyes widened, and he pressed his lips to hers before she could scold him.

She lit his path, and he anchored her. Whatever else the galaxy might throw at them, they'd survive it together.

***

There was one loose end Reyes needed to wrap up before he could focus on going legitimate. He sank into the Charlatan as he stalked through the base in Draullir, where Spender had been awaiting his pleasure these last few months under heavy guard. 

Ryder and Keema followed. He hadn't wanted Ryder to come after what had happened last time she’d seen the man, but she said she needed to face her dark side to be sure it was safely under control. He'd had a quiet word with Keema, asking her to come along and keep an eye on her while he dealt with Spender. 

The cave cell stank when they went in. Spender, usually well-groomed, had the appearance of someone who'd been living in the wilds. His clothes were bloodstained and in tatters, and a scraggly beard crawled over his face. Regular beatings had him scrabbling away as the door opened, cowering until he saw who'd come to visit.

“You!” he hissed, rage and hatred lighting his eyes. 

“Me,” the Charlatan agreed. “I believe you've already met my associate,” he said, indicating Keema, “and...my wife.” The two pocket aces life had dealt him in the game that was mastery of Kadara, ensuring he was likely to beat anything that landed on the table. _Better lucky than good_ , he reminded himself.

The blood drained from Spender’s face as his gaze darted between the Charlatan and the Pathfinder, the new paleness highlighting the grime in the lines of his cheeks. “Wife?” he squeaked.

“Hello again, Spender. How are those wounds treating you?” Her voice was low and hard, distant, and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She prowled up to the bars and crouched to peer at him, a sultry laugh spilling from her when he cowered. The Charlatan had only seen the aftermath before; seeing her in action was surprisingly sexy. He wondered what it would be like to fuck her like this.

 _No_ , he reined himself in. _You've already decided that Heleus doesn't need two of you and it's time to do better by her. It broke her last time. Pull her back_. Keema was looking to him for direction, anxious but trying to hide it. 

“Ryder,” he called her, making it a command. She turned to look at him, turquoise eyes glittering and a small, vicious smile on her lips, the face of a woman who would kill for the pleasure of it. _Fuck, she’s even more dangerous than I thought_. He fought the lust rising in him; her natural strength meant mastering her was arousing enough as it was but to take her like this? There were crates right over there, he could sit her on them or bend her over them, and they even had an audience...he forced the thought away. “Wait outside,” he ordered. She stood in a smooth uncoiling of muscles and stepped into his space, challenging him despite the difference in their physical size. He didn't move. “ _Wait outside_ ,” he repeated softly but firmly, steel under the words. “You don't need to see this.” _And I don't need the distraction or the temptation to train you in torture_. When she didn't respond he said, “Remember last time?”

For another long minute, she didn't so much as blink. Then her eyes shut and she took a deep breath, shuddering. He tipped her chin up and kissed her before nodding Keema out as well. They left together, Keema slinging an arm over Ryder’s shoulders and whispering to her.

“Got that bitch on a leash, I see. I knew you were the key to bringing her down,” snarled Spender. The Charlatan turned cold eyes on him, pleased when the man flinched. “You'll speak civilly about her, or you won't have a tongue to speak with. It’s your pain I'm after, and you don’t need a tongue to scream.”

It was amazing what the mild threat did to change Spender's disposition, turning him into a gibbering mess, eager to please.

The Charlatan usually disliked actively engaging in torture, preferring to leave it as a last resort and to those who were true sadists. Usually, it was business, though. This was personal. He'd nearly died - had died, in fact - and Ryder had been thrown into her dark side because of Spender’s plotting. If this was to be his last hurrah in criminal activity for a while, he figured he might as well do a proper job of it. The Charlatan doubted that Spender had any useful information but since his victim still had a tongue, he asked questions anyway.

When he emerged an hour later, it was with lots of Nexus gossip that was probably too old to be useful and a sense of satisfaction. “Get rid of the body,” he ordered Keema. She nodded, opening a comm channel to give the orders. Ryder, wearing an odd expression of sheepish sickness, offered him a rag and some water.

“What's wrong, _mi reina_?” he asked neutrally as he washed his hands. She shuddered. “I almost lost myself again. The power...I liked his fear. I wanted us to hurt him together. How...how do you keep control? How do you come back?” 

Her echo of his thoughts sent desire surging through him again, and he took a moment to compose himself. “Years of practice on Omega, and even then it's not just like flipping a switch. You seem to have found a method that works faster than most to bring me back -” he let a hint of lust into his eyes and looked her up and down suggestively, still wanting her “- but in the end, it comes down to making a choice. Every. Single. Time. You help me make the better choice, especially when I need to take care of you, but if both of us were lost in it...” He trailed off, watching the implications fall into place behind her eyes.

“It would be a race to the bottom,” she whispered, looking horrified. He nodded. “Exactly. And we both deserve a chance to be better than that.”

He grunted in surprise as she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck despite the blood that decorated his clothes. 

“Thank you,” she breathed. The Charlatan was genuinely confused. “For what?”

Ryder leaned back, arms still resting on his shoulders. “For being the kind of shady bastard who cares even when he's trying not to,” she said with a small grin. 

He snorted. Trust her to see the best side of it. She stepped away and reached behind her for a heap of what looked like the spare clothes he kept in his shuttle. “Keema said there was a little shower here, so I grabbed you a change of clothes. I know how much you hate when that shuttle gets dirty.” Her eyes sparkled as she simultaneously teased him for his obsessive neatness and catered to it.

“You're too good to me,” he said, leading the way to the shower.

“Don't you forget it,” she agreed cheerfully.

***

After a quick scrub, he flew the two of them back to port. Keema stayed behind to take care of some business, saying she'd catch a ride back with the cleanup crew.

Reyes had just set the shuttle down when Ryder's omnitool made an ominous ding. “That's a new sound,” he observed. She scowled. “It's a special one just for Tann.” Dismissing the call, she got up just long enough to shift from the jump seat to his lap. She was wearing another of his spare shirts, having gotten Spender’s blood all over the front of her jacket, scarf, and tank top, and the way her breasts moved under it without a bra was enticing. “I can think of more interesting things to do just now,” she purred, dipping her head to kiss him.

Her omnitool dinged once more and she snarled, starting to dismiss it again. Reyes caught her hand. “Answer it. Maybe he's calling to congratulate us,” he suggested with a smirk. The slimy salarian was only going to keep calling, somehow imagining himself important, so she might as well take the call before they got to the interesting bits.

Ryder rolled her eyes and sighed, then accepted the call voice-only. “Tann, to what do I owe the pleasure,” she said dryly. Reyes skimmed his hand up her shirt, rolling a nipple between his fingers. Her eyes sharpened but she didn't stop him. Riling her while she was trying to talk to Tann would be fun. 

The director’s voice was curt. “I think you know, Ryder.”

Her free hand dipped between them to rub his crotch through his trousers. “You'll have to be more specific given that most of what I do seems to meet with your disapproval. Quickly, if you don't mind. I'm in the middle of something.” Reyes kissed a trail down her neck, and she tipped her head back to allow it, shivering as he lightly brushed his lips across her collarbone. 

Unsurprisingly, Tann’s voice went from curt to irate, his usual lisp becoming even more pronounced. “I have just received a notification of an update to your personnel file. You _married_ an _exile_?” Ryder leaned forward again, pressing her lips to his, and he undid the fastener on her trousers. Tann's voice wasn't arousing in the least, but Ryder's sass and defiance were. “Do you have any idea of how this will look? You are in a position of influence, Ryder, and that means you need to set an example, not rush madly into an ill-advised liaison with -”

Ryder broke their kiss, their lips making an audible smack that Tann can’t have missed. Her turquoise eyes sparked angrily and her voice was threatening as she interrupted him. “You'll want to consider your next words carefully. Reyes is not only my husband, but he also led dozens of his people to fight for the Initiative at Meridian. Whatever the exiles were to you when you unleashed Morda on them and gave them the fucked up choice to freeze or leave, the Collective in general and Reyes, in particular, have proven to be our allies. You want to talk optics? How about looking at it as a solid gesture of reconciliation and dedication to our new alliance?”

Reyes paused in what he was doing, humbled by Ryder's defense of him. She may not ever have planned on getting married, but she was entirely committed to him. To them. 

Now he _really_ wanted to fuck her.

“Those were the only options available. You weren't here, Ryder.”

“I didn't need to be. Your shortsightedness, general disdain, and casual racism speak for themselves, _Director_. You took Jien Garson’s dream and pissed on it when you set the krogan against the rest. Now,” she said, her voice raising as Tann tried to break in. “As I said, I'm busy. I'd like to fuck my new husband, so you'll have to excuse me.” She ended the call before Tann could recover from his shocked silence. “I knew that would shut him up,” she smirked. “Now, where were we?”

“You were about to get up and take your clothes off,” Reyes growled. Watching her shut down Tann was _hot_. She grinned. “That's right, I was.”

Scooting off his lap, she quickly got herself naked while he lifted his hips just enough to slide his trousers down. He was already hard, and her eyes fastened on his cock as it sprang out. “Turn around,” he ordered huskily. She obeyed, and he tugged her down into his lap, her back to his front. He pulled her knees to rest atop and outside his, spreading his legs to draw hers open wide for the exploring fingers of one hand while he pinched a nipple with the other. “Up,” he prompted once she was wet and ready, and she popped up just high enough for him to get his cock into her. 

She rode him, rising and falling, rolling her hips with urgent need while he pinched a nipple hard with each hand. She cried out in pained pleasure, arching back to turn her lips to his and reaching to cup the nape of his neck. He went back to rubbing her clit with one hand, capturing her jaw with the other so he could turn her head to the side and mark her neck. 

The combination undid her, as he'd hoped it would. He gripped her hip to buck up into her twice more before following her into orgasm.

The Kadaran badlands sprawled out the front viewport, picturesque and wild, and the Pathfinder, now his wife, moaned and shuddered her pleasure in his arms. His enemies were dead or thwarted, his businesses thriving. He'd come a long way from the slums of Valparaíso and the darkness of Omega, and while he might rule from the shadows of Kadara, he was still king.

With Ryder as his queen and Keema at his other side, he could achieve anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END. 
> 
> Music for the first third: "Summer Dream" by Markus Schulz. Second third (party): "Chantaje" by Shakira. The last third (Spender onwards): "Renegades" by X Ambassadors. (Yes, my musical taste confuses me, too.)
> 
> When this story first came to me, it was just kind of "what would happen if someone shot Reyes" and then grew from there. It ran away with me, as usual, and while this wasn't all planned, I think it works. I hope you do, too! 
> 
> THANK YOU for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. It really makes my day, especially the comments! 
> 
> If you would like to offer me a cup of tea, [here is my ko-fi link](https://ko-fi.com/A86736CV).


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